


Potterella

by VivacissimoVoce



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2445989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivacissimoVoce/pseuds/VivacissimoVoce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s friends want him to find true love.  But when a spell that promises happy endings goes out of control, fairy tales come to life and Draco becomes Harry’s Prince Not-So-Charming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. I do not claim any ownership of the characters or settings contained within. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.
> 
> One reviewer of Bringing Up Weasley called it “almost crackfic,” so I thought it was time to go all the way. Poor Draco loses his dignity again and again, but it’s all for the greater good.

"Hurry, he's coming."  
"Quickly, add it now!"  
"Don't let it spill!"  
"Get out of the way."

When the golden mist billowed out of his friends' cauldron and surrounded Harry as he entered the Gryffindor common room, he knew something was terribly amiss. First off, one didn't usually find golden mists shooting out of cauldrons. Second, spells and potions weren't typically worked up in the common room. Third, his best friends respected him too much to plot against him.

The fog cleared slowly, swirling around him and then dissipating throughout the room and seeping into the walls. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville stared at him with expectant grins. Maybe plotting wasn't the right word. But they were certainly meddling in his life once again.

"What did you just do?" Harry sighed.

"True love!" Hermione squeaked.

"What about it?"

"Well," she took a deep breath and Harry knew he was in for a big explanation. "Ever since Ron and I started dating, and since things have gotten serious with Ginny and Neville, we felt you were becoming the odd man out. So we thought, wouldn't it be nice if you connected with someone and fell in love and then you could go out on dates with us."

"Keep going," Harry folded his arms across his chest.

"We found this spell for finding true love," she continued breathlessly. "It finds your perfect match and brings you together." She sighed and gazed up at Ron dreamily. "It finds your fairy tale love, the kind they write stories about."

"We cast the spell, and now it's going to go out and find your soulmate," Ginny said. "You'll find each other and fall in love in no time."

"My fairy-tale true-love soulmate?" Harry repeated. He eyed Ron and Neville. "You thought this sounded like a good idea?"

"It didn't sound like a terrible idea," Ron ducked his head and avoided meeting Harry's gaze. "But anything sounds terrible if you say it in that tone of voice."

"They said you would appreciate it," Neville added. "I only went along with it because they said you would be grateful."

Harry sank onto a chair. Behind his friends the fireplace crackled merrily and the soft glow of lanterns along the walls lent a cheery hominess to the familiar space. He would have loved to curl up with a blanket and a chess set and relax for the evening. Instead he was dealing with this. "You have to stop meddling in my life," he said. "We're not kids anymore. I don't need you to cast spells on me and fix things. I'll find someone in my own time."

"But that's just it, you don't have to wait for it to happen in its own time," Hermione still sounded excited. "And you don't have to do anything. The spell does the work for you."

"That's assuming a lot," Harry leveled a steady gaze at her. "The world is a big place. Who's to say my soulmate is here at Hogwarts?"

"Well," Ginny started to answer and then stopped. The four friends exchanged a confused look.

"You didn't think of that," Harry said.

"Of course your soulmate is here," Ginny looked baffled. She pointed to her brother, then Neville. "I mean, we found..."

"Right," Harry nodded. "You assumed that because you found someone to date, the world of options would naturally be this narrow for everyone."

"I guess."

"So what happens if it can't find someone?" Harry asked. "Let's be sure this isn't going to backfire on me and make me fall in love with, say, an owl."

"It doesn't make you fall in love," Hermione hefted the tattered old spellbook and pointed to a page within. "It just brings you together so that you can discover the love that will surely happen on its own."

"And if that doesn't happen," Harry repeated. "How much punishment am I in for?"

"None," Hermione said, quickly scanning the supporting text that surrounded the spell. "It just goes out and looks for your fairy tale love, and brings the two of you together. That's all it says."

"Can you rescind it?"

"I don't think so," she murmured into the book.

"Of course not," Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. "I guess there's nothing I can do about it. Your spell is out there looking for love on my behalf and will serve it up on a silver platter."

"See, it sounds better when you say it that way," Ron said.

"It will be fine," Hermione's grin returned to her face. "It will be fun. It will be brilliant. Imagine that moment of joy ahead of you when the spell returns the person you're meant to be with."

"That will be great," Harry murmured. Wouldn't she be surprised? Assuming the spell worked at all, wouldn't they all be surprised? Wouldn't they all be in for the shock of their lives when the sodding spell brought back a boy?

He didn't want to think about it.

*********************************************

At first nothing happened. In fact the day was so totally normal that Harry suspected the spell had fizzled. It supported his theory that there was no one at Hogwarts who fit the bill. He reminded himself that he couldn't be disappointed, he already knew that the likelihood of being connected with someone on the school roster was slim.

It wasn't until after the last class of the day, Slughorn's Advanced Potions class, that something seemed strange. Harry was walking down an empty corridor past the second floor boys' lavatory when it happened. 

Singing. 

He wasn't sure what he was hearing at first. It was soft, nearly a whisper, then it grew louder and more confident. Harry stopped in his tracks, breath suspended as he listened to the melodic sound. It was a male voice, a tenor with rich, clear tones and perfect pitch. His eyelids fluttered and his heart beat faster as it ascended to a beautiful high C and then descended again through a spine-tingling run of notes. 

He grasped the door frame and wondered who in all of Hogwarts could produce such dulcet tones. They went straight to his heart and then his groin and he became light-headed with desire. He wanted to march into the restroom and seize the owner of that voice in his hands and do all sorts of delightful things to show how much he enjoyed the performance. It was enlightened. It was inspired. It was--

"Bollocks," the voice interrupted itself. "All over my sodding robes." Harry heard the gust of a warm air spell and then footsteps. He jumped back and hid behind a suit of armor in an alcove as the footsteps' owner crossed the threshold of the restroom into the hall. 

Draco Malfoy glanced up and down the corridor, straightened his robes, and departed for the stairs. Harry stared after him with slack jawed bewilderment. As soon as Draco was out of sight he ran into the lavatory and searched every stall and every corner for another occupant. But no one else was in there. Which only meant one thing: the owner of that voice, that amazingly alluring, sensual voice was none other than Draco Malfoy. 

Which certainly couldn't be true. Because Harry was certain of two things: Draco Malfoy was tone deaf, and Harry would never think of him as sensual.

Which was what made it so strange . Because here he was and both things were true. 

Later things were even stranger. On his way to the Great Hall for supper he passed Millicent Bulstrode wrapped in a cloak and carrying a basket of shiny red apples. Her eyes darted about in nervous little jabs, her other hand jealously covering the largest, shiniest apple on top. 

A second-year Slytherin boy ran by, nearly knocking Harry into the wall in his haste. But when he spied Millicent's basket he screeched to a halt and turned around. 

"Those look delicious," he said. "May I have one?"

"No!" Millicent's eyes darted up and down the hall and lingered on Harry for a moment. "They're all mine. I picked them myself. Go get your own."

Harry frowned. She had to have a half dozen apples in her basket. Not sharing seemed greedy, even for her. 

"Aw come on, just one," the boy pleaded. 

"No! Now go away before I hex you stupid," she snapped. Her eyes landed on Harry again. "What are you looking at, Potter?"

"Nothing," Harry said, and continued on his way. 

"You eighth-years are so mean," the second year boy said as Harry rounded the corner. 

"Just you wait," Millicent's voice drifted up the corridor. "You'll be glad I didn't give you one of my apples."

"That's unnecessarily ominous," Harry muttered to himself. But he pushed it out of his mind and continued on to supper. He found a seat with Ron and Hermione and put the incident out of his mind. 

"Anything yet?" Hermione asked. 

"Clearly not," Harry said. "I told you the spell wasn't likely to find anyone at Hogwarts."

"Maybe it takes time," Ginny suggested from across the table. "True love doesn't just happen, you know."

A ruckus at the Slytherin table caught their attention. Draco Malfoy had arrived with seven small first-years on his heels. The underclassmen were whistling a cheerful tune and followed him directly to the green and silver-decked table. 

"Get away from me you miniature berks," Draco snapped at them. His cheeks were flushed with anger, which Harry noticed looked quite fetching against his pale skin. He shook his head. Where had that thought come from?

"He has an entourage," Neville said with chagrin. "Not even being a Death Eater wrecked his popularity."

"I don't recall him ever having an entourage of first-years," Rob frowned. "Maybe they're being coerced."

The first underclassman sat next to Draco with a grin. The second one ducked her head shyly as she sat. The third yawned and laid his head down on the table. The fourth glared at his lazy classmate and jabbed him in the side with a fork. The fifth sneezed uproariously and shoved a pepper grinder away from her plate. The sixth adjusted his glasses and sat primly in his seat. The seventh stumbled and giggled and flopped down at the end of the row. 

"Honestly, you lot are starting to annoy me," Draco snapped, his voice ringing out across the Great Hall.

Harry squinted at the Slytherin table. Something was nudging at his brain, a familiarity he couldn't quite pin down. He stared at the back of Draco's head, his pale blond hair as remarkably platinum as usual, nearly white in its contrast to his dark robes. A soft, snowy white. 

"Wait a minute," Harry muttered. 

Just then the doors to the Great Hall flung open again and Milicent slunk through in her hooded cloak with the basket of apples dangling from her arm. She took a moment to glower around the room and then went straight to the Slytherin table. She tapped Draco on the shoulder and forced a smile. Harry leaned forward and watched intently. 

"Draco, I picked some lovely apples today," Millicent said. She raised the basket to show him. "Would you like one?" And then the largest apple was in her hand, gleaming and red and delectable.

Draco looked up at her in confusion. He shook his head, his blond forelock falling back from his face. His white blond forelock. His snow white blond--

"Oh shit," Harry jumped up from his seat. "Malfoy! Don't eat that apple!"

He ran down the length of the table and made a beeline for Millicent's hand, which tried to press the apple into Draco's grip. Draco's brow furrowed at Harry's approach, totally bewildered by what was happening. 

"Don't!" Harry smacked Millicent's hand, sending the fruit flying down the aisle between the tables. She and Draco shouted in protest, but Harry wasn't done. He dashed over to where the apple had landed and stomped on it hard enough to mash it into the flagstone floor. A noxious green puff of smoke rose from the blackened core and a disembodied yawn filled the air before it faded from existence. 

"Sleep spell," Harry said, looking to Millicent for an explanation. 

"Bollocks!" she spat, then whirled and ran from the hall. 

Everyone was quiet. Draco looked at the mashed apple, then up at Harry. His bewildered expression took on a hint of annoyance. "What was that all about, Potter?" he sneered, like actually sneered, when he said Harry's name. 

"Poisoned apple. Sleep spell," Harry repeated. 

"I don't need your help, you nutter," Draco said. "In case it wasn't obvious, I wasn't about to eat one of her sodding apples. She was about as subtle as a Slugulus Eructo."

"I," Harry didn't know what to say. "Okay then."

"Go back to your table, Potter," Draco rolled his eyes and turned around. He glanced down the line of seats at the seven first-years. "And stop staring at me, every last one of you."

Harry trudged back to his table and sat down again. His friends were staring wide-eyed at him.

"What was that?" Ron asked.

"Snow White and the Seven Dwarves." Harry said. "I think we need to have a look at that spell after supper."


	2. Chapter 2

The five friends returned to Gryffindor Tower straight away. Hermione lugged the crumbling old tome back from the library and they laid it open before the fireplace in the Common Room to inspect the text. Harry nudged Ron out of the way and leaned in close, practically dragging his nose across the hand-inscribed spell.

"I don't understand what we're looking for," Ron said.

"Fairy tale," Harry pointed to the introductory text. "It says it brings fairy tale love to life."

"Right," Ginny said. "That lovey-dovey romantic storybook love. Everyone wants that."

"Hermione," Harry looked up. Her face was drawn, and as the only other one of the group who had been raised with muggle culture, he knew she had read his mind.

"Snow White and the Seven Dwarves," she said softly. "You can't be right about that, but somehow you are."

"I know I'm right," Harry said. "Malfoy had seven first-years following him, and Millicent tried to give him a poisoned apple with a sleep spell in it."

"What's Snow White and the Seven Dwarves?" Ron asked innocently.

"It's a fairy tale," Hermione said, her expression sober. "We literally just witnessed a fairy tale coming to life."

"How is that possible?" Ron looked back and forth between Hermione and Harry.

"This spell made it happen," Harry said.

"But that makes no sense," Hermione shook her head. "If Malfoy was Snow White and Millicent was the evil stepmother--"

"Stepmother?" Ron furrowed his brow.

"Hush, it's all in the story," Hermione turned back to Harry. "That makes you the prince. But how can," she paused. "I mean Millicent wasn't," she paused again. "It was Malfoy who," she finally gave up.

"Right," Harry sighed. "You might as well know that I'm not into girls. I like guys."

"Since when?" Ron asked. "What about Cho?"

"What about me?" Ginny's eyes were wide. Neville slipped his arm around her waist in a confused protective gesture.

"It's sort of something I've figured out over the years," Harry could feel his cheeks burning. "Sorry, Ginny."

"Wait a minute," Ron pointed an accusing finger. "Then the spell was trying to hook you and Malfoy up?" his voice broke.

"I don't know," Harry looked to Hermione again. "Maybe the spell has to try a couple of matches before it finds the right one. This one obviously didn't click."

"Maybe," Hermione's fingers played across her lower lip as she thought.

"How many times will it try before it gives up?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," she looked up. "Look, Harry, this isn't what I thought it would do."

"Then I guess we have no choice but to--"

A tremendous rumble rolled through the tower, shaking the walls and furniture about. They clung to each other and tumbled to the floor as a violent upheaval tossed them about like tumbleweeds. A moment later it stopped and they all ran to the window to see what had happened. The view was blocked by a cluster of enormous flat leaves. As one they whirled around and ran for the stairs, clattered down to the bottom floor and ran outside. The rest of the school was already gathering, staring up at the sky as Harry and his friends emerged. They hurried across the lawn and turned to see what everyone else was gawking at.

"Merlin," Harry murmured.

"What is that?" Neville asked.

"It's a giant vine," Ginny said.

"It's a beanstalk," Harry and Hermione said together.

The great twisting plant had thrust from the ground and wrapped itself once around Gryffindor Tower before ascending to the clouds above. It was as big around at the base as a redwood tree, with leaves and smaller supporting vines winding around it and creating a set of easy hand and foot holds. The crowd pressed forward.

"Out of the way," a snide voice cut through the dumbfounded fog in Harry's brain. Draco Malfoy pushed through the gathered students and drew up short beside Harry. "What in bloody hell is that thing?" he asked.

"Beanstalk," Harry said again.

"Who asked you, Potter?" Draco said without breaking his sky-ward stare.

"You did," Harry scowled.

"I didn't ask you for your life's story," Draco shot him something between a sneer and a grin and then marched to the base of the beanstalk with Gregory Goyle and Theodore Nott on his heels. "What do you suppose is up there?" His voice rang out across the throng of students. He tugged on one of the smaller vines and pulled himself up.

"No no no," Professor Sprout ran over to him and tugged on his robe until he let go and jumped to the ground. Other staff members were showing up now, too.

"There will be no climbing by any students," Headmistress McGonagall called. "Attempting to climb this vine will result in severe punishment, do I make myself clear?" A disappointed murmur spread throughout the throng.

"Bollocks," Draco didn't bother hiding his annoyance as he marched past Harry again, brushing him with his shoulder and bumping him into Ron. "Mind your step, Potter," he said as he passed.

"You mind your step!" Ron shouted after him.

"Good comeback, Ron," Harry sighed.

"Pomona, what exactly is this?" Professor McGonagall asked Professor Sprout.

"I don't understand," the herbology professor squinted up at the sky. "I keep them locked up. I don't know how they could have ended up here."

"Uh," Neville shuffled uncomfortably. "We should go."

"Do you know something about this, Neville?" Ginny asked sternly.

"I might." He waved them in closely and spoke in a hushed tone. "I was doing my apprenticeship with Professor Sprout yesterday afternoon and I found a jar of beans. The label called them magic beans. There was a whole lot of them and I figured she wouldn't miss three. So I took them and brought them back to the castle to show Ginny. But then I thought she might get mad that I stole them, so I tossed them away." He glanced over his shoulder at the huddle of professors at the base of the enormous beanstalk. "Sort of in that direction."

"Is this another fairy tale?" Ginny asked. 

"Jack and the Beanstalk," said Harry. 

"Which is strange," Hermione added. "Because that's not a love story. Why would the spell conjure up Jack and the Beanstalk?"

"What's at the top? Maybe the answer is up there," Ron pointed up at the intersection between vine and cloud.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. "I think I can say with certainty that we should do what McGonagall says," Harry said. "Let's all agree to steer clear of the beanstalk."

"Do you know what's up there?" Ron asked.

"I think so," Harry nodded. "And trust me, you don't want any part of it."

*******************************************

Harry couldn't sleep. Outside of the eighth year boys' dormitory window the beanstalk creaked and groaned as it shifted in the wind. Every rustle of leaves against the shutters reminded him that there was a spell out there looking for his true love and making strange things happen.

He was concerned that the spell wouldn't be able to find an appropriate match for him, but would upend the school trying. The beanstalk was no small manifestation of a fairy tale. He shuddered to think what would have happened if it had gripped Gryffindor Tower more tightly. 

A flurry of taps at the shutter snapped him out of his pondering. He sat up in bed and slipped his glasses on. No one else so much as stirred at the sound. The tapping came again, this time spurring him out of bed and to the window. He unlatched the wood panels and pushed them out against the great green leaves. A pale face stared in at him. 

"Malfoy!" Harry yelped. "What are you doing out there?"

"Let me in, Potter. My hands are about to fall off," Malfoy held up one palm and showed a handful of bloody lacerations. 

"Why are you climbing the beanstalk at night?" Harry didn't reach out to help him. 

"McGonagall had someone watching it all day," Draco said as though it were obvious. 

"Well climb down, you shouldn't be up there."

"I know that," Draco reached again. "But I can't climb down. My hands are knackered."

Harry hesitated again. Was this the spell at work? It was intended to connect him with his true love. If he touched Malfoy's hand would it bind them together? He was reasonably certain that he would hate that. It's not that he wasn't attractive, because he most certainly was. The months since the war ended had been kind and Draco had finally come into his own. But his personality was still--

"What are you waiting for, you owl-eyed wanker?" Malfoy waggled his hand impatiently. 

Scratch that, Harry was positive he would hate it.

"I can't pull you in," Harry said. "You're not allowed in here. You'll have to climb down."

"Are you mad?" Draco squeaked. "I'll fall. Are you seriously going to let me fall?"

"You won't fall," Harry shoved down a pang of guilt. He had saved Draco once before, kept him from falling and dying in fire like Vincent Crabbe. He knew Draco was thinking the same thing.

"What's going on?" Ron stirred in his bed and sat up. "Who's out there?"

"Let me get some salve so you can heal your hands before you climb down," Harry said. 

"Salve? Just pull me inside," Malfoy swiped and tried to seize Harry's fingers.

"I shouldn't," Harry yanked his arm back. The spell hadn't said anything about binding them together, but it also hadn't said anything about beanstalks. He couldn't risk it.

"Is that Malfoy?" Ron leaned forward and tried to peer past Harry's shoulder. 

"Don't worry about it," Harry leaned to block his view. 

"Harry, I'm slipping," Draco's left foot lost purchase on one of the smaller winding vines and he had to grab with his lacerated hands to stop himself from plummeting.

"Hang on!" Harry lunged out of the window and seized a vine, stretching his arm as far as it would go but Draco was just beyond his reach now. Harry clung to the windowsill by his ankles and strained to reach but it was no good.

"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, perhaps I was unclear," a familiar brogue hauled them up short. Professor McGonagall hovered just beyond the leaves of the tremendous vine, sitting side-saddle on a broom.

"Professor," Harry gasped and scrambled to retract his body through the window. "This isn't what it looks like."

"I fail to see how it is anything but what it looks like," she extended a second broom to Draco and he gratefully climbed on. "Detention, both of you, tomorrow night."

"Both of us?" Harry and Draco groaned simultaneously.

"Both of you."

The two boys eyed each other warily and spoke in unison again. "Bollocks."


	3. Chapter 3

"But what was he doing out there?" Hermione asked. "What would possess him to climb the beanstalk at night?"

"I don't know," Harry shook his head. He and Ron and Hermione were crossing the lawn between the greenhouses and the front entrance of the school, trying not to stare at the enormous green vine that still embraced Gryffindor Tower.

"Is there a treasure up there?" Ron asked. 

Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. "Sort of. There's a goose that lays golden eggs up there."

"There is?" Ron's eyes swung skyward.

"Don't get any ideas," Harry said. "There's also a man-eating giant protecting it."

"Get off of me!" A shout came from the direction of the greenhouses.

As one they turned towards the source. Draco Malfoy was behind them, also walking up from Herbology class, and he appeared to be in a bit of difficulty. Two bluebirds were perched on his shoulders as a pair of doves flitted around his head. A soft, gray bunny hopped along at his feet, a score of adorable chipmunks darted around him as he walked, and a spotted fawn was nuzzling his right hand. As they stared a brilliant rainbow appeared in the sky above him and arched delicately across the tableau.

He looked up, his face radiant in the afternoon sun, his short blond hair lifting in the breeze as the happy woodland creatures celebrated around him. Harry was awestruck by the sight, by the way the light sparkled in Draco's eye, by the way the birds twittered musically, creating the sweetest melody that he had ever--

"Fuck off and stop staring!" Draco snapped. "Get these horrid things away from me!"

"Right," Harry lurched forward and waved his hands to shoo the animals away. Draco waited impatiently as the deer bounded down the hill towards the forest and the birds fluttered into the sky and the bunny and chipmunks scampered for the bushes. "There you go," Harry said, stepping back. 

Just then his ankle rolled in a divot and his knee buckled. He flailed his arms wildly to catch his balance and Draco reflexively snatched his hand just as he was toppling over. Harry landed on one knee, his hand in Draco's, looking up at him with his face framed perfectly by the sun.

"Oh shit," Harry said. Not only had they touched, but he was now down on one knee in the classic marriage proposal pose.

"Potter, what are you doing?" Draco's cheeks blushed. "Get up, people are staring."

"Sorry, I tripped," Harry released his hand and scrambled to his feet. Jamming his fists into his pockets, he whirled around and ran to the castle, a very bewildered pair of friends at his heels.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione called as he burst through the front door and made a beeline for home. 

"I tripped!" he shouted, taking the stairs two at a time. He threw himself into the common room and flopped face down on a sofa. 

Ron and Hermione were silent. Finally they sat in the upholstered chairs across the way and waited for him to raise his head. 

"Was that the spell again?" Ron asked. 

"I think so," Harry said miserably.

"So it brought Malfoy to you again?" Ron's brow furrowed.

"I think so," Harry dropped his face back onto the bolster pillow. 

"Harry--" Hermione began. 

"Don't say it."

"Harry, do you like Draco Malfoy?"

"No," Harry moaned. "He's awful."

"But," Hermione paused. "But do you like him?"

"How could I like him?" Harry raised his head and wailed.

"He's rather good looking these days," she shrugged, peeking guiltily at Ron. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's true," Ron shrugged. "What? Can't I notice something like that?"

"But the spell. Thinking someone is attractive doesn't mean you can fall in love with them," Harry said. 

"But maybe you could," Hermione said.

"Not bloody likely," Harry grumbled. "And even if I could, he would never go for it."

"Maybe he would," Hermione shrugged. 

"Not bloody likely," Harry said again and laid his head back down.

He kept to himself for the rest of the day, only coming downstairs for supper and then going straight back up to his room. He couldn't stop watching the clock as midnight approached. Finally at a quarter of he descended the stairs and went out to the forbidden forest to serve his detention.

Filch was waiting for them, his permanent frown etched more deeply than usual. He scowled at Harry as he approached and thrust a shovel at him. 

"Where's the other one?" he snarled.

"I don't know," Harry shuffled his feet. They stood in awkward silence as the unsettling sounds of the nighttime forest rustled beyond the edge of the grassy lawn. 

"There he is," Filch somehow frowned even more deeply than before. Harry turned and his breath hitched. 

The moonlight bathed Draco Malfoy in silver magnificence. His long stride was powerful and commanding and his posture confident. He marched over to them with a sneer of pure annoyance, a cloak tucked under his arm and nearly dragging on the ground. 

"Detention for eighth-years? You must be joking," he eyed Filch with naked hostility. 

"You've done detention together before, haven't you?" Filch glared back and forth between them. "Back when you were small."

"First year," Harry murmured, glancing up at his classmate. Draco was peering down his nose at him with a curious expression.

"Well get going," Filch shoved a bundle the size of a cord of firewood into Draco's arms. "Head straight in until you reach the pond. Bury this near the edge of the water. Don't bollocks it up."

"What is it?" Draco tried to unwrap the cotton shroud. 

"Dead vampire bat," Filch smiled venomously. "Big one. Staked through the heart."

"Eurgh," Draco shoved the bundle at Harry. "You carry it, I'll take the shovel."

"Fine, but you're doing the digging," Harry hefted the large bat corpse up to his shoulder and set off with his wand extended. "Lumos," he called.

"Hang on," Draco struggled to pull the cloak around his shoulders and catch up.

"What do you need that for?" Harry asked, not slowing down.

"It's cold out here," Draco snapped. "Or hadn't you noticed?"

Actually he hadn't. He realized he was blushing, and had been since Draco's arrival. He was too warm, really. Which was terribly embarrassing. 

"I borrowed this one from Blaise," Draco prattled on. "He doesn't know I borrowed it, of course."

"You don't have your own cloak?" Harry asked, mostly to keep the conversation going and hold his nervousness about the nighttime forest at bay. 

"Of course I do, you knobhead," Draco said. "But this one is enchanted. It changes colors according to the situation."

Harry paused and turned around. He eyed the cloak dubiously. "What does blue mean?"

"I don't know," Draco looked down. "I guess I forgot to ask."

Harry looked up at Draco's face and tried to determine if he was joking. But no, he really looked confused about the color. He couldn't help it, he laughed. Draco's eyes snapped up in surprise and Harry braced himself for a scathing retort, something to punish him for the perceived mockery. Instead Draco chuckled softly.

"That's what I get for sneaking out with it," he said. Then he caught himself and scowled. "Keep walking, Potter. This isn't a date."

Harry's cheeks burned. What kind of comment was that? Did he know about the spell or was he just being pithy?

They reached the edge of the pond without incident and argued briefly about digging until Draco finally relented and gouged a small trench in the moist soil at the edge of the water. Harry rolled his eyes and shoved the bundle of dead bat into his arms and seized the shovel. He widened and deepened the hole until it could accommodate the corpse. Draco dropped it in with a shudder and scraped the soil on top until it was completely buried. 

"That wasn't so bad," Harry scooped the shovel up from the mud and wished he could trust the pond enough to wash his hands. 

"Scourgify," Draco pointed his wand at Harry's fingers and they were instantly, if not painlessly, clean.

"Yowch," Harry dropped the shovel and shook his fingers. "You can't Scourgify skin."

Draco gave him a withering look. "Really, Potter? You took a Cruciatus if I remember correctly."

Harry rubbed his palms on his robes and retrieved the shovel again. "Maybe," he said. 

"Unless the Dark Lord lied about it," Draco shrugged. "I suspect he lied about many of his conquests, pathetic bugger that he was."

Harry didn't say anything. He wanted to ask why Draco had followed Voldemort if he was so pathetic, but suspected he knew the answer wasn't a proud one. It wasn't like he'd had much choice in the matter. 

"Something on your mind?" Draco reached back and pulled the hood of the cloak over his head. 

"I don't know," Harry shuffled his feet.

"Why doesn't it surprise me that you don't know if something is on your mind?" Draco said. "What, confused that I bad-mouthed the Dark Lord?"

"A little."

"Are you really?" Draco's expression took a turn. His shoulders sagged and for a moment he looked plaintively into Harry's eyes. For reasons Harry wasn't able to articulate to himself, his rival needed him to understand, to know the difference between reality and bravado. 

"No," Harry shook his head. "It's just that--"

"What?"

Harry's mouth went dry. Before his eyes the cloak was blooming red all across its surface until the whole thing from hood to hem was crimson. He shook his wand into his hand and whipped around, looking for danger.

"What is it?" Draco looked down. "When did that happen?"

"Wolf," Harry said.

"Wolf? Where?"

"Werewolf," Harry said through gritted teeth. "It has to be."

"Did you hear something?" Draco peeked over his shoulder at the tree line. "What did you hear?" He turned back and stared at Harry with wide eyes, his face framed by the cloak's intense red hue.

The crackle of twigs lit a spark in Harry's spine, exploding in a reflexive attack that shot out of the end of his wand with a thunderous crack. A yelp pierced the air and then its owner, a grotesque, ravenous werewolf, froze in mid-lunge and dropped like a stone mere paces from Draco Malfoy's back. 

Draco spun around and gawked in horror at the beast. Slowly the cloak faded through purple and back to blue. 

"Blue means safe," Harry said, completely at a loss for anything else to say.

"How did you know that was going to happen?" Draco gasped as the adrenaline of the near miss hit him.

"The cloak," Harry nodded at the garment. 

"But how did--"

"Little Red Riding Hood," Harry said. 

"What did you just call me?" Draco's eyes narrowed. 

"Nothing," Harry muttered. "Let's get the hell out of here."

They trudged back through the forest and emerged with nothing worse than a few twigs in their hair and mud on their shoes to show for it. Draco dropped the shovel, muttering something about Filch that wasn't particularly flattering. Then they regarded each other in awkward silence for a moment. 

"So," Draco scratched his nose. "Thanks for, you know."

"Saving your arse from a lifetime of full moons and flea dip?" Harry smirked.

"Or death. Whatever," Draco gazed off towards the castle in an effort to hide his own smirk.

"Malfoy, can I ask you something?" They set off slowly across the lawn towards the castle.

"I guess. Although I might not answer."

"What were you doing climbing that beanstalk in the middle of the night?" Harry jerked his thumb in the direction of the tower-hugging vine.

"I overheard a pair of Hufflepuffs talking about the legend of the beanstalk. They said there was a treasure up there."

"What do you need with more money?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Draco tossed his forelock out of his eyes and thought for a moment. "It was really more about the challenge, I guess. Doing something on my own. For once."

"Oh," Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. That Draco Malfoy would yearn for the opportunity to do something without the assistance of his father was somewhat surprising.

"I wasn't trying to reach your window, if that's what you're thinking," Draco said.

"I wasn't thinking that," Harry looked up in surprise. "Why would I think that?"

"I don't know," Draco's cheeks flushed pink in the moonlight. Harry's cheeks flushed a mirrored pink, although he wasn't sure why. "Just know that it was a coincidence, right? It could have been any window." His cloak lightened, passing through deep aubergine and warming to a rich golden yellow. He looked down in surprise and his blush deepened furiously.

"What does yellow mean?" Harry asked.

"No idea," Draco muttered. He shucked the robe and balled it up under his arm, where it darkened to black again. "Piss off, Potter. I hope you get eaten on the way back to your room."

And with that, he ran on ahead to the castle, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

"Little Red Riding Hood?" Ron flopped back on his bed laughing. "Please tell me I can call him that from now on!"

"It's another fairy tale," Hermione rolled her eyes. "And it seems pretty clear that Malfoy is the spell's target."

"That's no good," Harry said. "I don't want to be connected to him."

"Why not?" Ginny asked, plucking at Harry's quilt thoughtfully. "He's calmed down a lot since before the war. And what he went through because of his family, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

"Excuse me," Neville stood and glared at his friends. "Have we forgotten who we're talking about here? We're talking about a bully of epic proportions. He's terrorized every one of us, and he actually attacked Harry on more than one occasion. Are we really going to just set that aside?"

"Well," Hermione considered carefully. "It's not really setting things aside. It's growing up."

"And if he's who Harry wants then we should support that," Ron added.

"You're all mad," Neville shook his head in wonder. "Harry, I want what's best for you, too, but this is madness."

"Now hang on," it was Harry's turn to stand up. "I never said I wanted him. Why have we all decided it's settled?"

His friends were silent, like they expected him to answer his own question. 

"I mean, do we even know whether he's gay?" he asked. More silence. 

"That's a very good point," Ginny finally murmured. "Do we know whether he is or isn't?"

"It's kind of an important detail," Harry said. 

"Well the spell picked him out," Hermione said. "And surely it's able to pick an appropriate match with the correct sexual orientation."

"I certainly hope so!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny grinned at him simultaneously. "What?"

"You said you hope so," Ginny said.

"Bollocks," Harry muttered. 

He decided things were getting out of hand. The spell didn't care about what he wanted, it was bulldozing ahead towards a match without his consent. And his friends were now along for the ride. So he kept to himself and tried not to trigger the spell again, refusing to stop and talk to anyone in between classes, and certainly not speaking to or even looking at Draco Malfoy.

His only consolation was that Draco didn't seem to realize that he was caught up in Harry's spell, that the strange things that had been happening all linked him to his longtime rival. Harry's face burned with humiliation when he thought about how Draco would surely react if he found out.

In fact, he felt so consoled that he was caught off guard at the end of Advanced Potions class when Professor Slughorn tasked him with running down to Hagrid's hut for an ingredient he needed for the next day's lecture.

"And take Mister Malfoy with you. Dragon spoor is quite heavy and may require two people," he said. 

Harry looked up in surprise. "Malfoy? Why Malfoy?"

Draco's look of surprise crumpled into a scowl. "I don't want to go with you either, Potter."

"Why not Ron?" Harry insisted. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck. 

"Because Mister Malfoy needs extra credit to make up for the ingredients he wasted pranking a fourth-year student last week." Slughorn said.

Draco snickered and then returned to his scowl. 

"Do I get extra credit?" Harry asked. 

"Why, who did you prank?" Slughorn's bushy eyebrows shot up.

"No one."

"Then why do you need extra credit?" he asked. 

"But you said Malfoy--"

"That is all, gentlemen," Slughorn dismissed them with a wave. 

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione, who were waiting by the door with grins plastered across their faces. 

"Come on, Potter," Draco caught Harry's elbow and dragged him from the room. Hermione waved with a giggle and Ron made a smooching face. Harry wished he could fall down a flight of stairs. 

"Let go of me," Harry yanked his arm out of Draco's grasp as they emerged into the late afternoon sunshine. 

"Oh pardon me, Saint Potter," Draco waved his hands in mock dismay. "You know, Slughorn has a lot of nerve asking us to fetch this ingredient. It's beneath even someone of your station."

"Afraid of a little heavy lifting?" Harry was grateful for the sniping conversation. It distracted him from the tension in his gut that told him the spell could manifest itself anytime.

"It's not the heavy lifting I'm afraid of," Draco said. "Do you know what dragon spoor is?"

"Scales?"

Draco stopped in mid-stride and peered at him. "You really don't know that word?"

"Should I?" Harry stopped, too. "What does it mean?"

"It means," Draco glanced around and waved Harry in close, like he wanted to share a secret. 

Harry swallowed hard but stepped closer, crossing the imaginary barrier that was his bubble of personal space. Draco grasped his elbow and leaned in, putting his mouth right next to Harry's ear. Harry's heart pounded furiously and his mouth went dry. 

"Shit," Draco murmured sensually. "It's dragon shit. A big steaming pile of dragon shit."

"Gross," Harry yanked his arm free. "Bugger off."

Draco laughed in delight at Harry's revulsion. He strode in down the hill, over the lawn to Hagrid's house with his blond hair fluttering in the breeze and his robes billowing out around his knees. 

"Step lively, Potter," Draco called.

Harry lectured himself furiously about keeping his cool, and not letting Hermione's sodding spell get under his skin, and remembering what a prat Malfoy was. He still had free will, after all. The fairy tale spell wasn't an Imperius curse. He could still control his own actions, even if Malfoy was attractive, even if he was tickling a part of his interest he'd never tickled before, even if he made Harry's basic instincts want to--

"Fuck," Draco hauled up short and Harry plowed right into his back. 

"Malfoy," Harry's voice came out whinier than he liked. 

"Look at that," Draco pointed. Up ahead was Hagrid's hut. Except it wasn't Hagrid's hut. It was the wrong shape, more Victorian in design, delicately detailed with gingerbread edging.

In actual gingerbread.

The roofline was scalloped in icing, the walls were dotted with lemon drops and gummy candies, and the flagstone walkway was now a line of oversized cinnamon biscuits.

"Oh no," Harry murmured. 

"Is his whole house made of candy now?" Draco's eyes lit up. "Do you think it's real?"

"It's real," Harry sighed. "But we should steer clear of it."

"Rubbish," Draco looked outraged. "Dear Professor Slughorn needs his potion ingredient, and we would do him a disservice to turn back now."

"You can't eat that candy," Harry said. But Draco was edging away from him, sugar lust sparkling in his eye.

"Why not?" Draco demanded. "He won't notice a bite here or there."

"What are you, a child?" Harry lunged and snatched a handful of his robe. "Show some restraint."

"Potter," Draco leveled a steady gaze at him. "Let go of me."

"You don't need that candy," Harry insisted. "Trust me."

"Potter," Draco said again. "Let go."

"Malfoy, it's not what you think," Harry said. "The candy is a lie."

"Funny you should say that," Draco mused. "I spent most of my life having my head filled with lies. Lies about the importance of blood purity and the worthlessness of muggles. Over the last two years I've come to realize that nothing I knew for certain is true. My father is not invincible. The Dark Lord's vision of a muggle-free world is rubbish, and he was a half-blood himself. I learned that there are actually things you can't buy, not with all of the Galleons in Gringotts. And that power is pointless if you're alone and the whole world is against you. Everything I knew about life and even about myself is untrue, and I've spent the last two years trying to figure out who I am if everything I am is a lie." He took a breath and raised his chin proudly. "I am left with only two truths that no one can take from me. The first," he raised a finger, "is that I love candy. And the second," he raised another finger, "is that you stink." He grinned and flipped a rude vee-sign. "Last one there is a dragon spoor!"

And with that he yanked his robe free and ran for Hagrid's hut. Harry's mouth worked soundlessly as Draco pelted down the lawn towards the confectionery house. With a start he uprooted himself and ran after him, knowing that this could only end badly. 

"It's frosted gingerbread!" Draco exclaimed as he snapped a piece off of the porch railing and took a bite. "And look, gumdrops!" He attacked the candied border of a window. He jumped down into the melon patch and dug a handful out of what looked like a pumpkin and crammed it into his mouth. "Marfmawwo!" he garbled around the sugary fluff. "So good," he moaned.

Something way down in Harry's belly twitched at the sound of that moan. It was the sound of pure pleasure, of heady indulgence, and it made Harry's cock perk up just a little bit. He sternly tried to talk it down, but Draco was jumping from candy to candy and making more sounds of pleasure that Harry couldn't ignore. He unconsciously brushed his thumb across his groin as Draco dropped to his knees before an oversized peppermint stick and deep-throated it with a groan of pleasure. A drop of sweat beaded at Harry's temple.

"Potter," Draco scooped a handful of marshmallow fluff from one of the pumpkin-shaped candies. "Try some." The corners of his mouth curled upwards, none of the usual nastiness in his smile.

"We'd better not," Harry snapped out of his erotic trance. He jerked his hand away from his crotch and hoped the bulge wasn't too obvious.

"Come on, try some!" Draco waded through the marshmallow melon patch and thrust his fist at Harry's face. Harry was caught off guard and tripped, wheeling his arms as he tumbled backwards. Draco lunged and followed him to the ground with a laugh, still trying to find a way to force the orange fluff into Harry's mouth.. 

"You're getting sugar all over me," Harry protested as Draco scrambled to pin him down and press the confection past his lips. Harry clenched his jaw and glared up at his rival, and then something snapped. For just a moment time seemed to hang still, and the world around them went quiet, and suddenly there was no one else in the world but Draco Malfoy. He was glorious in his joy, his eyes bright and his grin endearing as he tried to press the candy into Harry's mouth. And then Draco's expression softened, like he was struck with the same epiphany about Harry.

His hand was gentler now, and he touched the marshmallow to Harry's lips in a delicate caress. Harry opened his mouth and let just a bit of it in, just enough to melt on his tongue and fill his head with candy sweetness. Draco's smile was different now, tentative and wondering. Harry raised his head and took another bite of the marshmallow fluff, catching the tip of Draco's finger between his lips. Without thinking about what he was doing, he swirled the tip of his tongue across the captive digit and Draco's eyelids fluttered.

"Harry! What're yeh doin' down there?"

Draco rolled away and hopped to his feet as Harry jumped to attention. Hagrid was leaning out of the gingerbread house's door and peering curiously at the two boys in his garden. 

"Hagrid," Harry dusted the powdered sugar from his robes. "What happened to your shack?"

"Dunno," Hagrid's scratched his gigantic head. "Woke up an' here it was. I miss the melons but it sure is prettier like this, innit?"

"I ate some of your railing," Draco pointed. "I'm not sorry."

"Yeh never are, are yeh?" Hagrid shot him a grimly tolerant look. "You two want teh come in?"

Harry was conflicted. On the one hand, he knew how the fairy tale of Hansel and Gretel ended. On the other hand, this was Hagrid. Hagrid wouldn't hurt a fly. Malfoy, perhaps, but not a fly.

"Have you got any milk?" Draco asked as he followed the large man inside. "I'm dying for a drink."

Harry reluctantly came along and inspected the interior of the house. It looked normal, no candy on the inside, which Draco pointed out with disappointment. 

"I'm not suggesting it's your fault," Draco was saying. "I'm just suggesting that a bed made of sweets would be amazing."

"Can't stand the sweet stuff m'self," Hagrid sat down with a thud. "Been hungry all day, but I've got nothin' to eat."

"We could run to the Great Hall and get you something," Harry suggested. 

"Nah, wouldn't want teh bother yeh," Hagrid eyed Draco again. "Besides, kinda enjoyin' the company."

That didn't sound right. Since when did Hagrid enjoy Draco Malfoy's company? And why was he watching him so intensely? And why was his hand sneaking towards the hatchet--

"Draco! Run!" Harry shouted. He lunged across the table and snatched Draco's hand, pulling him out of his chair and out of Hagrid's reach. 

"Now don' get excited," Hagrid stood and blocked their path to the door. "Just makin' small talk is all."

"We have to leave," Harry said firmly, his eyes locked on Hagrid's. The man's gaze was distant. He wasn't himself, the spell had him in the thrall of the fairy tale. 

"Potter," Draco tried to free his hand. "Why are you holding my--"

"Hagrid, let us leave," Harry said louder. He remembered how Hansel and Gretel ended but he would be damned before he shoved his friend into the oven.

"Great Merlin's ghost, does he mean to eat us?" Draco finally realized what was happening. 

"No," Harry said. "Hagrid wouldn't do that. Would you, Hagrid?"

"Been hungry all day," the giant man murmured softly, his eyes distant. His mouth worked as though savoring the thought of food. 

His great hands swung wide and tried to scoop them into his grasp. Draco ducked and dragged Harry by the hand between Hagrid's legs, wordlessly flinging the door open with a sweep of his fingers. Harry hung on tightly and let the other boy propel him out of the house and down the gingerbread steps. Behind them Hagrid shouted and stumbled over a chair as he tried to pursue them. Draco pelted through the melon patch and up the lawn with Harry's hand locked in his grip. They didn't stop until they reached the beanstalk that was still wrapped around Gryffindor tower, which he ducked behind with Harry at his heels. They pressed themselves up against the stone wall of the castle, chests heaving for breath and ears tuned to the sound of pursuit. They heard only their own breathing and the occasional chirp of a bird higher up the vine. Their fingers were still intertwined, clutching at each other as they crouched in the shadow of the beanstalk.

"Strange things are happening," Draco gasped between breaths. He let go of Harry's hand and pushed his hair back from his forehead.

"I know," Harry said.

"Why are strange things happening?"

"I don't know."

Harry felt guilty for not owning up to the spell, but he didn't know how he could explain it without sounding like it was his fault. Besides, he still hadn't figured out what the spell was doing, why it thought Draco should be its quarry. And if all he could do was tell him that they were apparently supposed to connect in a romantic way, he figured it wasn't worth mentioning at all.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning things were significantly more awkward. From the moment Harry opened his mouth, all that came out was poetry. Or rather, he spoke in rhymes. Poetry implied art and skill.

"Hermione, you've got to think," he said desperately as he followed her down to the Great Hall for breakfast. "Or my whole day will really stink."

"I don't know what to tell you, Harry," she said. "This is well outside of any information I have about the spell. It didn't say anything about speaking in rhyme."

"Everyone will think I'm mad. This has gone to worse from bad," Harry buried his face in his hands.

"You sound like a nutter, too," Ron said helpfully.

"That doesn't really help me, Ron. Go find a tack to sit upon."

"Hey, don't get snippy with me," Ron scowled. "If you'd just give in and admit that Malfoy is your match the spell would quit trying so hard."

"Draco Malfoy is not my match. I'd rather have my head detach." He didn't think it would help his case to mention the incident with the marshmallow fluff the day before. Besides, he couldn't even begin to think of how he would explain licking Draco's finger in rhyme.

So instead he said nothing as he followed his friends into the Great Hall with his mouth clamped shut. He couldn't face the idea of being heard speaking in rhyme by the rest of the school. He responded to his housemates with pantomime, nodding and pointing and keeping mum.

"Say something else, Draco!" Greg Goyle's crude laugh carried over the hubbub of breakfasting students. Harry looked over his shoulder at the Slytherin table and caught sight of Draco scrambling out of his seat and brandishing his wand threateningly at his friend.

"Mister Malfoy," Headmistress McGonagall called down from the teacher's table. "Need I remind you that we do not threaten our classmates? Certainly an eighth-year such as yourself should need no reminder."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but he's a prat," Draco said, still glowering at Goyle with his wand aimed. "I'll hex him with the bogey bat." A titter went up from his housemates.

"He's rhyming, too," Hermione jabbed Harry in the side with her elbow.

"Obviously, Hermione, I can tell," he rubbed his ribs in annoyance. "And he's not getting on so well."

"You should go talk to him," Hermione jabbed him again.

"Oh that idea's really strong. Maybe we'll break out in song," Harry rolled his eyes.

"He's leaving," Ron elbowed Harry in his other side. "Go catch up. Go talk to him."

"Fine, if it will get you off my back," Harry grabbed his satchel and stood with a sigh. "I'm sure he won't be hard to track."

"I love that," Hermione giggled. "I hope he rhymes all day."

Harry shuffled out of the Great Hall and searched the corridors for Draco. They still had thirty minutes until class, so he could be anywhere. Following a hunch, he passed through the library and spotted a head of platinum blond hair in the stacks. Draco looked up from the tome in his hands, screwed his mouth shut, and glared as hard as he could. Harry took a deep breath and braced himself for the idiotic couplet that was about to trip off of his tongue.

"I noticed that you spoke in rhyme," he said. "So am I, all of the time."

Draco's eyes widened. He snapped the book shut and shoved it back onto the shelf. "It's really happening to you? You're rhyming like a nutter, too?"

"I really don't know what to say," Harry said, "or how to make it go away."

Draco nodded at the bookshelves. "I'll find something in here, I'm sure. I have to find some kind of cure."

"I don't think the answers are in a book. But go ahead if you want to look." Harry shrugged.

"Why is it just you and me?" Draco's brow furrowed. "Why not Blaise or Hermione?"

"It's just another weird event," Harry shrugged helplessly. "Another strange thing heaven sent."

"That explanation's not good enough. I need something of sterner stuff."

"Think about the events this week," Harry said. "I think you'll find the answer you seek."

"Potter, you're getting on my nerves," Draco said. "I don't have a bloody clue what you're talking-- oh. It stopped."

"Did it stop for me, too?" Harry asked. "I guess it did. Why did it stop?"

"Of course you don't know that, either," Draco snorted. "Some great savior you are, stumbling through life hoping the answers will present themselves."

"Malfoy," Harry sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Never mind. What's the point?" He turned and walked out of the library.

A moment later he heard footsteps rushing up behind him, and then a pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him up against the wall. Draco had his biceps in his grip and he was scowling at Harry with furious anger.

"What do you mean, what's the point?" he snarled.

"I mean what's the point," Harry repeated. "You hate me no matter what I say, so what's the point?"

Draco glared at him for a moment longer, leaning in close, his hands still holding Harry up against the wall. Suddenly he let go and straightened his own collar. "And there's another thing you don't know," he said. "I don't hate you at all." He spun on his heel and marched away, leaving Harry to wonder at what had just happened until the first bell rang.

**************************************

"That has to mean something," Ginny laid on the floor of the common room with her legs up on the sofa. "Everything he says is a little nastier than he means. So if he says he doesn't hate you, that's saying a lot."

"Or he's just trying to throw me off like he always has," Harry said. He lifted her left foot and squeezed it, eliciting a grateful groan from his ex.

"Piss off, Harry," Neville retrieved her foot and squeezed it himself. "Just because you're into blokes, that doesn't mean you can give my girlfriend a foot massage."

"Listen to him!" Ron laughed. "Not the same old Neville since the war, eh?"

"Exactly," Hermione peeked over the top of her book. She was sprawled out in front of the fireplace doing homework. 

"Exactly what?" Harry asked. 

"Think about how much Neville has changed since first year," Hermione said. "The war changed so much. We're all different now, some more than others."

"And?"

"Don't play dumb, you know where I'm going with this," she snorted. 

"Okay so maybe he's changed," Harry conceded. "That doesn't mean he likes me."

"Do you like him?" Ginny asked between groans of pleasure.

"I don't know," Harry blushed. He thought about the reaction he'd had to Draco's moans of pleasure in Hagrid's candy garden, and the fact that Ginny's noises didn't elicit a thing.

"That means yes," Neville lifted Ginny's other foot and squeezed. 

"It doesn't mean yes," Harry said. 

"It means not no," Ginny said. 

"So give him a chance," Hermione said. "Maybe start by acknowledging that the spell could be working exactly as intended, and that he's the one you're supposed to be with, and give him a chance."

"It's a two way street, Hermione."

"Yeah but shouldn't you start by figuring out which way your side of the street is going?" Ron asked. 

"Too right," Hermione said.

Harry didn't respond. They had a point. He needed to figure out what he wanted, whether Malfoy had indeed changed, and whether he could stand him before deciding whether the spell was making a valid match.

But even having come to that epiphany, he decided to keep to himself for a few days. He hid mostly in his room, grabbed meals from the kitchen instead of the dining hall, and only ventured out for classes. He managed to go three days without running into Draco Malfoy and having to confront his feelings about him. 

But on Wednesday that changed. And in hindsight Harry had to wonder if the spell was annoyed with him for making it work so hard, and chose to get a little bit of revenge for the wasted days.

He was sitting in the Great Hall, having lunch with his friends when the doors flung open with a bang. And the sight that lay before Harry's eyes was so absurd that he thought maybe he had finally gone mad. The whole student body went silent.

Draco Malfoy was naked.

He stood proudly in the doorway without a stitch of clothing on, his pale, lithe body on display for everyone to see. Harry couldn't help but stare. Merlin, but he had become a handsome man. His torso was long and lean, with taut muscles beneath creamy pale skin. His stomach was perfectly flat, emphasizing the angled cut of his hip flexors, which Harry suddenly wished he could lap with his tongue. His cock was flaccid but impressive, even at a distance. His thighs were strong, and Harry wondered what they would feel like wrapped around his waist. It was suddenly very warm in the Great Hall.

Pansy Parkinson stood next to him with a satisfied smile on her face. "Don't his new robes look grand?" she called. "Only the most elite wizards can see them. They're charmed, you know."

Slowly a murmur spread throughout the student body as everyone began describing the new robes in detail to each other. Harry snapped out of it and looked around in confusion. From every direction he could hear admiring whispers as his classmates discussed Draco's new robes. But there were no robes. Did that mean Harry was not elite? Did the charm not work on him?

Wait a minute, this had to be the spell.. He whirled back around as Draco strolled down the center aisle towards him. Harry swallowed hard. He was sitting, which put his face right about knob level. He quickly stood to remedy that situation and at least put them on equal footing. Draco's eyes darted sideways at him and he cocked his head with a smirk.

"Fabulous robes, aren't they, Potter?" he asked. He turned to give Harry a look at the back, which only revealed his arse. His toned, perfectly shaped arse that made Harry salivate involuntarily.

"Malfoy, can I talk to you?" Harry swallowed hard and stepped towards his rival.

"Anything you want to say to me can be said in front of Pansy," Draco folded his arms over his chest.

"He looks absolutely smashing," a nearby whisper reached Harry's ears. "The cut is perfect, too. Exquisitely tailored."

"I need to speak to you privately," Harry said more urgently. "In the hall. Please."

"If you insist," Draco sighed tolerantly and waved for Harry to lead the way. They left a babble of whispers in their wake as they passed.

Out in the foyer Harry grasped Draco's elbow and dragged him down a seldomly used corridor. He checked around furtively to make sure they were alone, then realized belatedly that they were standing far too close. He pressed his palm against Draco's bare chest to step him back an inch. His heart rate jumped at the contact.

"What do you want to say to me?" Draco asked. He looked down at Harry's hand on his chest and this time Harry could observe the way his blush started in his chest, crept up his shoulders, up his neck, and into his cheeks. "The fabric is quite lovely, isn't it?" he asked.

Harry snatched his hand back. "Malfoy, there's no fabric."

"What are you talking about? Are you saying you're too common to see it?" Draco's eyes bugged out.

"No, I'm saying there are no robes, you've been duped into thinking there are," Harry said. "And you're popular enough that no one wants to tell you."

"I don't follow."

"It's The Emperor's New Clothes," Harry said. "You're naked, Malfoy. You're naked."

"What?" Draco stepped back and held his arms out wide.

"You're naked," Harry insisted. "I can see your Sectumsempra scar. I can see your bollocks," Harry couldn't believe the words that he was speaking. "I can see that you're uncircumcised."

"Whoa, wait," Draco held his hands up. "Pansy said these robes would be visible to everyone once I put them on."

"Do you see any robes on your body?" Harry had to swallow hard. Talking directly about Draco's body was doing a number on him. He hoped Draco didn't notice the hard outline of his semi-erection through his trousers. That seemed to be happening a lot these days.

"I don't know," Draco murmurred. "I guess not." He looked up with eyes as wide as saucers. "Great fucking Merlin, Potter, I'm naked! Do something!"

In his panic Draco threw himself at Harry and scrambled behind him. Harry instinctively reached back and after a moment of grappling he had Draco securely tucked up behind him, painfully aware that his cock was nestled against the crack of his arse, and Draco's arms were hugging tightly around his waist.

"You have to get me back to Slytherin house," Draco angled his head over Harry's shoulder and spoke into his ear.

"Let's go," Harry slipped his hands over Draco's to make sure he didn't lose his grip. The trouble brewing in his trousers grew a bit worse.

They shuffled to a cross-corridor and up a flight of stairs, bypassing the potential humiliation of the foyer outside of the Great Hall. Harry could feel Draco's breath on his neck, which sent goosebumps cascading up and down his arms. He was glad for long sleeves. 

"If you were wearing your robes over your uniform I could have at least covered myself with that," Draco said, his lips just barely tickling Harry's earlobe. Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he stumbled over the edge of a runner. 

"Sorry," he muttered, tightening his grip on Draco's arms. 

"Am I distracting you?" Draco deliberately touched his lips to Harry's earlobe now.

"No," Harry grunted. "I'm fine." He paused in mid-step as something else drew his attention. "Are you--"

"It's the friction," Draco said quickly. "You'd get hard too if your cock was mashed up against someone's arse."

"So I shouldn't be flattered," Harry said bravely. 

"Well," Draco canted his hips slightly, pressing his erection against Harry's crack. "Maybe a little." Harry closed his eyes again and grunted. "Although you still stink," Draco said softly into his ear. 

Voices were growing louder behind them as lunch ended and the rest of the students headed for their afternoon classes.

"Come on," Harry pulled Draco down the hall as quickly as they could walk in tandem. They cut over to a remote stairwell that led down to the dungeons and descended in an awkward huddle. Harry realized they were unlikely to run into anyone in this part of the school at this time of day but he didn't feel particularly inclined to point that out, not as long as Draco didn't seem to mind. 

They finally arrived at the entrance to Slytherin house and let go of each other. Harry hoped his eyes didn't radiate the hunger that suffused the rest of his body. Draco studied him for a moment, seemingly unperturbed about still being hard and fully on display. 

"Thanks," he finally said. "Again. For helping me out of yet another strange situation."

"Anytime," Harry's cheeks were burning again.

"Anytime?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "You mean you'd rescue me from public nudity again?" He stepped closer and smiled secretively. "Are you saying you don't mind having my cock pressed up against your arse?"

Harry nearly choked on his own tongue. How was he supposed to answer that? He stammered and tried to deflect, but couldn't think of anything to say. Fortunately he was saved by the shouts of returning Slytherins up the corridor, which spurred Draco to get inside quickly and release Harry from the obligation of answering his question. 

Harry dashed up the hall as quickly as he could, dodging between the oncoming students and hoping no one noticed his hard-on. He knew without question that Draco hadn't missed it.


	6. Chapter 6

On Friday he ventured out to the Great Hall for breakfast, and was just sitting down before a plate of French toast when the delivery owls showed up with the day's post. Suddenly the air was filled with envelopes that showered down over the student body. Everyone got one, an identical white envelope with a shimmering golden seal on the flap. The hall filled with the crackle of torn paper as everyone eagerly ripped the card inside free. 

"It's an invitation," Hermione said. "It's an invitation to a masquerade ball! Hosted by Draco Malfoy!"

An excited walla spread across the student body as others read their invitations, too. 

"Formal attire, guests must conceal their identities with a masking spell," Ron read aloud. "It's tonight in Hogsmeade!"

"Tonight?" Harry frowned. "He didn't give much notice, did he? I don't own any formal attire"

"So?" Ron shrugged. "You'll wear your formal robes from the Winter Ball."

"That was fourth year," Harry looked at him cockeyed. "I've grown a bit, believe it or not. And you have too, in case you were planning on doing the same."

"Are you mad?" It was Ron's turn to stare cockeyed at Harry. Ginny snickered into her hand. "I have a formal muggle suit. Hermione and I went to her cousin's wedding over the summer."

"Well I don't want to wear robes anyway if you're wearing a suit," Harry said. "Not that it matters, seeing as I have neither."

"We'll find you something to wear," Hermione reached across the table and patted his hand. "You really shouldn't miss it."

All day Harry looked for an opportunity to pop down to Hogsmeade for a quick shopping trip to pick up something to wear, but every time he tried something came up. First Slughorn found him in the halls and asked him to help label unguent jars. Then Professor Flitwick needed help retrieving top shelf books in the library. Then Seamus and Dean asked him to help them work on their conversation skills so they could better chat up girls at the ball, which Harry felt was way beyond his qualifications, but he couldn't say no.

Before he knew it, evening was upon him and he still had nothing to wear. He sat on the edge of his bed and watched Ron get dressed, resigned to miss the event.

"You're sure you can't find something in your wardrobe?" Ron asked. 

"No," Harry retrieved his fourth year formal robes and held them up against his body to show how short they were.

"Wait, you can't go in, Ron is getting dressed!" Hermione shouted from the common room. 

They heard feet coming up the stairs and suddenly the door burst open, revealing Luna Lovegood with a beatific smile on her face, radiant and sparkling in a glittering ballgown and her wand in her hand.

"You can't stay home from the ball," she said melodiously. "Let me help you," She swished her wand and pointed it at Harry's discarded fourth year robes. "Bibbitus Bobbitus Suit."

"Oh," Harry suddenly realized what was happening. He rubbed his palm over his face and sighed.

"Time to get dressed!" Luna sang. She swished and the new suit swirled around Harry in a whirlwind and before he knew what to do he was dressed. His face was even shaved and his hair was moussed in a stylishly shaggy way.

"Harry," Hermione rushed in, wearing an ankle-length lavender evening gown with her hair swept up off of her shoulders. "Harry, it's--"

"Cinderella," Harry moaned. "I know."

"He doesn't have any shoes," Ron said. 

"Of course not," Harry sighed.

"You shall have the most special shoes, perfect for dancing," Luna twirled around, her long blonde hair flowing like silk. It was a bit much, even for her. Harry blamed the spell.

"Bibbitus Bobbitus Shoes!" she pointed her wand at Harry's feet and suddenly they were clad in a pair of rather fashionable wingtips, black with silver stitching along the eyelets and shimmering, curling flame details along the sides. They were marvelous. 

"How do I look?" Harry held his arms out expectantly. 

"Lovely," Luna beamed.

"Amazing," Hermione breathed. 

"Like a million Galleons," Ron added.

"We should go or we'll be late," Hermione waved them out of the room.

They clattered down the stairs with Luna fluttering behind them. Her enormous ballgown with its hoop skirt and full layers of tulle made it impossible for anyone to walk beside her. Harry wondered if she'd even had a choice in her selection or if the spell had dictated her appearance. 

When they arrived at the floo Filch was standing in the way, fumbling around up inside of the chimney. 

"Floo's down for repair!" he shouted from the brick enclosure.

"How are we supposed to get there now?" Hermione grasped Harry's arm. "We can't Apparate, the Floo is down, now what?"

"Come with me," Luna led them outside to the circular drive that led to the main road to Hogsmeade. She walked straight up to a large boulder that sat just off of the path and swish-flicked with a flourish. It bulged and deformed and grew until it became a large, gray carriage. 

"Brilliant," Ron squeaked. "That will work nicely if we can find a horse. Maybe Hagrid--"

And then Ron was a horse. 

Harry reeled back and gawked at Luna, who looked terribly pleased with herself. She took Ron by the harness and led him to the front, where the carriage self-hitched.

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked. "Are you okay? Is he okay? Ron, are you in there?"

The horse's eyes rolled in terror as it nodded it's head. It whinnied softly and cocked its head to peer down at its front hooves.

"It will be okay, Ron," Hermione turned on Luna with rage. "You turn him back! You can't just transfigure someone without their consent!"

"It's temporary," Luna shrugged. "He'll change back when he arrives at the ball. So will you." And with a swish flick Hermione sprouted a butler's uniform, a driver's cap, and a mustache. 

"No!" Her hands flew to her face. "What have you done?"

"He needs a driver," Luna shrugged again. "Go on now, you'll be late."

Hermione turned on Harry with a seething glare. "Tell her to change me back!"

"I don't think she'll listen to me," Harry spread his hands helplessly. "Maybe this will teach you to think twice before hitting me with a love spell again."

She stomped her foot, whirled around, and climbed up onto the carriage.

"If it helps, I think you look very distinguished," Harry called. 

"It doesn't help!" she shouted and covered her face again.

"Harry," Luna called as he climbed into the carriage. "One last thing. The spell wears off at--"

"Midnight," Harry finished. "I know."

"Well then," she twirled around once in the twilight air, "just be sure you leave by midnight."

She swished her wand and flicked at Harry's face, and then he was disguised by a simple black and white harlequin mask with a scarf that concealed his hair. He touched his face and couldn't detect his glasses. All that remained exposed was his mouth and chin. 

"Also gone at midnight!" she sang as she spun away. 

"Can we go now?" Hermione called. "I'd like to get this thing off of my face." Ron snorted in agreement.

Fortunately the ride wasn't long and before they knew it a large enchanted tent came into view on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. They pulled up front, Harry climbed out under the curious attention of the attendees, and the carriage moved down the road. Harry hovered near the entrance, pretending to be occupied with his wand, and a few minutes later Hermione and Ron rounded the corner, looking sullen in their evening finery. They each donned a mask and took Harry by the elbows and propelled him inside.

"If I have to be a horse, you damn well will connect with Malfoy tonight," Ron growled in his ear.

"How will I find him in all of--" Harry stopped dead in his tracks. 

Ahead of them the throng parted, and at the center, illuminated from above by a great chandelier, was a man in an exquisitely cut suit, platinum blond hair pushed back from his forehead with a silver mask covering just the top half of his face.

"He didn't try very hard to conceal himself, did he?" Harry asked, his voice petering out as he realized he was alone. Ron and Hermione had left him to face Draco Malfoy on his own. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. If the spell was going to work this hard to connect them, he might as well give it a shot. 

He walked straight up to Draco and plucked a glass of champagne from a passing levitated tray. Anonymity made him brave, or at least brave enough to make eye contact and smile in a way that said he was being more than simply polite. Draco looked Harry over head to toe and then smiled with a quirk of his lips.

"Hello," Draco said. "And who might you be?"

"Just another masked guest.," Harry said. He sipped his champagne to cover his nerves. 

"That suit is smashing," Draco said, eyeing him up and down again. Harry was glad the mask covered the blush in his cheeks. 

"Thanks," he said. "You look very nice yourself." He winced internally. Very nice? Who was he, Draco's grandmother?

"You like what you see, eh?" Draco sidled closer and smiled again. He nodded towards a gap at the back of the tent. "Want to get some fresh air?"

"Sure," Harry's palms instantly began to sweat. He hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. He dropped his glass onto a passing tray, afraid it would slip out of his fingers.

They threaded their way through the crowd and out through the raised flap. A rose garden backed up to the tent, encircling a bubbling fountain at the center. Draco led the way down the path with Harry trailing along behind. Torches guttered and crackled and illuminated the nighttime garden with warm golden light as the sounds of the festive party receded behind them. 

"So you're planning on abiding by the rules of the party," Draco said as he sat on the edge of the fountain. Harry hesitated before sitting beside him. 

"Of course," Harry said. 

"But you know who I am, correct?"

"I do," Harry nodded. 

"And you approached me."

"I did," Harry said softly. 

"I find that very interesting," Draco inspected him again, this time lingering on Harry's eyes. His smile saddened, not by much but enough for Harry to notice. 

"What is it?" he asked.

"Your eyes are blue. I thought you were someone else," Draco said. "I couldn't tell inside."

"Are they?" Harry was surprised by this news. 

"Don't you know that?"

"Of course I do," Harry rushed to cover his reaction. "I thought the mask would change my eye color but I guess it didn't."

"Ah," Draco nodded. "So they're naturally blue."

"Were you hoping for another color?" Harry asked.

"Hoping?" Draco gazed off towards the tent. "I suppose not. That would be daft."

They sat in silence for a few minutes while Harry debated with himself over whether he should reveal his identity. Now was the time, wasn't it? The spell had brought them together. He should take the opportunity to act on it.

He couldn't do it. Because this was Malfoy and he was Potter and Malfoys and Potters don't mix.

"Tell me about yourself," Draco said suddenly. "Maybe I can guess who you are. Do you go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Harry said. "But don't ask me what house I'm in or what year I am."

"Well I can be certain you're no Slytherin," Draco said.

"How can you be sure?"

Draco snickered. "I can't see much of your face but I can see enough. No Slytherin has a mouth like yours. I would have noticed a mouth like that."

"Really?" Harry felt emboldened and slid a bit towards Draco. "You like my mouth?"

"It's a nice mouth," Draco tried to sound casual but Harry didn't believe it for an instant. 

"You have a nice mouth, too." The words came out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them. 

"Do I?" Draco asked softly. He peered into Harry's eyes again. "You're sure your eyes are really blue?" he asked. 

"What color do you prefer?" Harry slid a little closer. 

"Are you coming on to me?" Draco smirked. 

"Maybe," Harry was startled by his forwardness. One little mask and suddenly he was Don Juan.

"Tell me something else about yourself. Something about you that no one would know, so I can't possibly guess who you are," Draco said. 

"Well," Harry thought hard. "I've never been with a man."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't think there were any other queer students at Hogwarts," Harry said honestly. "I've only just recently guessed that you might be."

"I'm not exactly subtle, you realize," Draco shook his head. "If you didn't know before now, you weren't paying attention.

"We don't socialize much," Harry added. "So that might be why I didn't realize."

"Was there anyone else you were hoping was gay?" Draco asked. 

"If I answer that, it will narrow down the choices of who I might be." Harry pointed out. 

"Rubbish," Draco snorted. "So what do you like to do with your time?"

"Quidditch," Harry immediately regretted his answer. Then again, most boys liked Quidditch.

"Do you play?"

"I'm not going to answer that."

"That's rubbish, too," Draco said. "What else can you tell me about yourself? Something intimate, that no one else knows."

Harry thought carefully again. And when he opened his mouth the words tumbled out before he knew they were coming. 

"I'm afraid of liking you."

Draco watched him for a moment and didn't speak. He nodded, then squinted at the tent as though searching for someone.

"You should be," he said. "I'm not a very nice person."

Harry was taken aback by his honesty. "Well why not?" he asked.

"I don't know. Born this way, maybe," Draco shrugged.

"Now that's rubbish," it was Harry's turn to sneer.

"Maybe I was never taught how to be nice," Draco tried again. "I wasn't raised that way."

"You've been around nice people," Harry said. "At least at school."

"Nice to each other," Draco said. "Not me."

Harry made a rude noise. 

"Look, I'm not saying it's anyone else's fault," Draco said. "I know it's my fault. It just means, I don't know."

"What does it mean?"

"It means I've had the world's most useless epiphany," Draco said. "I get it, I know I'm not a nice person. I know that's my own fault, I know it's my father's influence, and I know no one can change it but me. But who is there to be nice to, even if I knew how? And who would want to be nice back?"

Harry's heart hovered between beats. He'd never thought of Draco as someone who could be self-aware, who could admit his failures, who could feel regret. Before he could change his mind, he leaned in and kissed him.

Draco startled at the contact, breaking free with a pop, but then he dove back in with determination. Harry's head swam with the rush of excitement as he realized kissing was pretty amazing. He'd never really had an amazing kiss before. A few okay kisses, and maybe one or two bad ones. But never good. Definitely not amazing. 

His hands moved on their own, pulling the other boy in closer and raking his fingers through that fine, silky blond hair that he'd admired for so long. Draco responded in kind by slipping his hands beneath Harry's jacket and stroking his fingers down Harry's back.

After several heady minutes of making out they finally parted, both just a little bit out of breath. Draco wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and checked in the direction of the tent to see if anyone had seen them. 

"Tell me something else about yourself," he said breathlessly.

"I think maybe I'm supposed to be with you," Harry marveled at how true his words felt. 

Draco stared at his hands for a moment. "What if I said I'm interested someone else?"

"How can you say that when you don't know who I am?"

"You have blue eyes," Draco said. 

"Does that really matter?" Harry asked. "What if they were a different color?"

"Why can't you just tell me who you are?"

"Why can't you just tell me who you hope I am?"

"Because if you're not," Draco paused with a soft chuckle, "and he finds out how I feel and doesn't feel the same way, I'll be humiliated."

"That's my problem, too." Harry sighed. 

"Maybe I shouldn't have thrown a masquerade," Draco said. 

"Without the mask I wouldn't have been brave enough to approach you," Harry said. 

They sat for a few minutes, listening to the water bubble in the fountain, the music and the babble of guests inside of the tent, and the distant sounds of Hogsmeade beyond.

"So now what?" Draco asked.

"You tell me." Harry said. "You're interested in me, you wouldn't still be sitting out here if you weren't."

"That's true," Draco nodded.

"And if you're interested in me, does it matter who I really am?" Harry asked. "Let's say the person you were hoping for was Blaise Zabini, and you know I'm not him, wouldn't you still want to get to know me?"

"I suppose."

"So does it really matter if my eyes are the wrong color?"

"It doesn't. Not if I'm being realistic," Draco murmured.

"I'm just saying, maybe you can get to know me and who I am won't matter in the end," Harry said. Once again the truth of his words surprised him. He realized how much he wanted a chance with Draco, one where his identity as The Harry Potter wouldn't get in their way. He wanted a clean slate.

Draco looked at him again and smiled sadly. "You're probably right."

And then he leaned over and his lips brushed Harry's and just like that they were kissing again. Harry's head filled with the wild tumult of amazement as they pressed in close and slid their hands around each other. He groaned involuntarily and parted his lips to let Draco's tongue inside. Draco's fingers worked their way up Harry's back to his shoulder, then to his ear, and then his thumb was searching the edge of the mask for a gap. But Luna's spell held strong and the mask stayed put. 

Harry smirked, breaking the kiss. "No way in," he whispered.

"It was worth a try," Draco whispered back.

They kissed again, pressing more urgently against each other's mouths. Their hands grasped at each other's suits, not a care for the fabric or whether anyone was watching. Draco ran his hands over the satin scarf that covered Harry's hair but it, too, held firm. Harry taunted him by carding through his pale blond hair.

Suddenly Draco yanked him to his feet and walked him backwards towards the edge of the garden, kissing him the whole way. He drew Harry behind the box hedges that lined the perimeter of the garden and pressed him to the ground, grinding his hips against Harry and making his erection known.

Harry gasped and knew Draco could feel his own hardness and wondered whether he was ready for whatever was next. He had never actually done anything with a boy before. He'd thought about it quite a bit, he'd looked at pictures and had even seen some videos on the computer the last time he'd stayed with the Dursley's. He may have even left a few files on the desktop with Dudley's name on the folder just to freak his parents out. But he'd never actually done anything. He hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself. 

As he worried, Draco unbuckled his belt and slid his trousers down to his knees. In seconds he'd gone from kissing his first boy to exposing his knob to a boy for the first time.

And then came another first. 

Draco slipped his lips around his cock and took it all the way to the back of his throat. Harry gasped and bucked against his mouth, knocking Draco's mask askew. He tossed his mask away and plunged back down for another long drag, eliciting a grateful moan from Harry's throat. His head crashed like waves as a sensation a hundred times better than wanking spread through his groin. It was downright magical, the things Draco was doing with his tongue. Swirls and licks and sucks and swallows and-- oh Merlin, do that again! He tilted his head back and bit his lip in an effort not to cry out and draw attention from the other party goers. There was a storm building in the pit of his abdomen, stirring, whirling heat that was growing in strength as Draco rose and fell in delicious rhythm.

He looked down and nearly wept at the beauty of the sight of Draco Malfoy swallowing his cock. As he watched Draco unzipped his own trousers and stroked himself as he licked and sucked. Then Draco looked up through his eyebrows at Harry and winked roguishly. 

That did it. Harry's back arched and he came hard in Draco's mouth, convulsing and twitching as he delivered eighteen years of untapped primal energy. Draco slipped his mouth free and gasped as his own orgasm shook him from head to toe. He came on the ground, on his trousers, and on Harry's trousers, too. 

When he was done he sat back and gasped for air. He marveled at Harry for a moment, then laughed in disbelief. "You're really not going to tell me who you are?" he asked. 

"No," Harry said without thinking.

But why shouldn't he tell him, he thought. Wasn't this what the spell was after? Still, it was clear Draco had someone in mind, someone he had hoped Harry was. He couldn't bring himself to admit who he was without knowing who Draco really wanted. After all, when had he ever spoken to Harry without antagonizing him? If Harry was the one he was hoping for, why hadn't he told him he stinks, or sneered even once? If he would just admit what eye color he had been looking for, that would be something. He needed something. 

It occurred to him that even if he was hoping for Harry, Harry had talked him into hooking up with someone else. By defending his eye color and coming on to him he had basically coerced Draco into abandoning his interest in Harry. He had just cheated on himself. Or something. He was a little confused. 

"Who were you looking for tonight?" he asked as he cast a clean-up charm that worked wonders on spunk. 

Draco looked away. "It doesn't matter. It was foolish to think anything could happen with him."

"Were you thinking about him when you did that?" Harry's heart panged at the thought. Wait, if the answer was yes, should that make him happy or sad? He realized that it was quite possible that he was both Draco's first and second choice. Possibly being second choice hurt.

Draco considered his question. "Yes. Sorry."

"No, it's okay," Harry smiled bravely, refusing to acknowledge the ache in his chest. "It's a blow job, not a marriage proposal."

"Right," Draco touched his bottom lip, like he was thinking about what his mouth had done.

"We should get back inside," Harry said, buttoning his trousers and standing up. 

They walked slowly back through the garden, shoulders brushing but hands in pockets. Harry was certain he shouldn't reveal his identity now. Draco was clearly interested in someone, and while he could acknowledge the possibility that that someone was Harry, unless he was sure he just couldn't risk the humiliation.

He had to admit to himself now that the spell had gotten one thing right. He did have feelings for Draco. Maybe he always had. But the spell hadn't made him any stronger, more confident, or less afraid of the possibility of rejection. And since Draco was still just as likely to mock him as ever, the risk was greater than it would be with anyone else. 

They reached the edge of the tent and peered in at the throng of masked attendees. Harry spotted Ron and Hermione near the entrance, craning their necks in search of someone. Harry realized they were probably looking for him. He turned to bid Draco good night but stopped short. 

Draco had replaced his mask and was now staring at Harry, his face half silhouetted against the torchlight of the garden beyond. His eyes searched Harry's and he seemed to be at a loss for words. 

"You're really not going to tell me who you are?" he asked softly.

"No," Harry smiled apologetically. "If it's meant to be we'll meet under more honest circumstances, and then you can decide if you're still interested."

"Fair enough," Draco murmured.

"It was nice talking to you tonight," Harry said, offering his hand. "I enjoyed it."

"Me too," Draco clasped his hand for a moment and then let go. "Who were you thinking of? You know, out there?"

Harry smiled and ducked his head. He shrugged and jammed his hands back into his pockets. "You."

Just then the clock in the Hogsmeade town square struck midnight. Harry's blood ran cold as he remembered Luna's warning. Hell, who needed a warning? He knew exactly where this story was going. He spun around and bolted for the entrance, weaving in and out of the crowd of guests as the clock continued to chime. Ron and Hermione spotted him and ran ahead, ducking outside before he reached them.

"Wait!" Draco called after him. But Harry was determined not to be found out. Not after the evening they'd had. If Draco found out now that he'd sucked Harry Potter's cock, and if Harry wasn't the one he wanted, he might hex him on the spot.

Right on cue his left wingtip loosened and slipped off of his foot, tumbling onto the cobblestones as he ran for cover. The clock was reaching the end of its tolling and he knew he was only seconds from being exposed. A hand darted out of a copse of trees and dragged him into the shadows as Draco emerged from the tent and searched frantically in both directions. Harry watched with Ron and Hermione as Draco spotted the shoe and picked it up, then caressed it with his head bowed and his shoulders rounded.

He felt terrible about leaving the way he had. But he knew he had spoken the truth. If they were meant to be, they would connect when they were truly face to face. And if not, then at least he would be saved the humiliation.


	7. Chapter 7

"Your problem is that you don't trust people," Ginny said. 

"I do so trust people."

"No you don't, not when it really matters," she led the way down the stairs towards supper. "You've always wanted to do things on your own because you've never trusted people to look after themselves or get it right."

"That's different from this situation," Harry protested. "I just don't want to make a fool of myself if Malfoy likes someone else."

"You don't trust him to be different now, in spite of what you've seen," she ticked off her fingers. "You don't trust the spell to have correctly identified him as the person you're supposed to be with, and you don't trust yourself to have made the right choice to be interested in him."

"It's different," he said.

There was a hubbub up ahead, something that had gathered lots of people outside of the Great Hall. As they entered the grand foyer they saw immediately what was going on. 

"Come on, don't be shy," Draco Malfoy was standing on a chair on the other side of the room, holding up Harry's abandoned wingtip. "I need to have a word with whomever lost this shoe. Fifty Galleons if it fits."

"Over here," Theodore Nott raised his hand with a grin.

"I already know the owner isn't from Slytherin house," Draco said. "But step up and try it on."

Theo pushed through the crowd and crammed his foot into the shoe. For a moment it looked like it was fine, and Theo held his hand out for payment. But then his face twisted in pain and he lunged at his foot, kicking the shoe off as fast as he could. 

"No good," Draco scooped it up and scanned the crowd again. "Who else wants a shot?"

Several students pressed forward, mostly boys but also some girls. Harry ducked his head and tried to sidle around the perimeter of the room to the Great Hall.

"Potter!" Draco's shout resonated over the student body. Heads swiveled to stare at him. "Too scared to try on the shoe?"

"No," Harry shot back, trying to cover up his guilt as the wingtip's rightful owner. "I don't need your fifty Galleons."

They stared at each other over the tops of the younger students' heads. Harry desperately wanted to see even a glimmer of hope that he was the one Draco was looking for. But all he could see was the sneer. The likelihood of mockery if he did step forward seemed too great to be worth the bother. 

"Maybe I should Imperius you to do it," Draco shot back.

Harry bristled. "It wouldn't be the first time I've been tortured with an Unforgivable by one of your kind."

A startled gasp spread through the students and Harry immediately regretted his words. Draco's sneer immediately shut down. He seethed for a minute and then shook his head, like he had decided against his first response.

"Relax, Potter, it was a joke," he said. "Although I don't know why I expected anything different from you."

Harry's stomach dropped like lead. Why had he responded with hostility? They'd gotten along so well at the masquerade. Why poison the well by talking about the war? He was hurt by the sneer, he realized. Draco had spoken to him at the party with such sincerity, and now that they were face to face he was hostile again. Wasn't that enough proof that he couldn't be the one Draco was looking for?

Draco stubbornly refused to give up on recruiting shoe testers, carrying the wingtip from class to class until nearly half of the school had tried it on. Not a single one had been able to wear it for more than a few seconds. 

Meanwhile the spell began to reassert itself with a vengeance and Draco started finding himself in fairy tale themed hot water as often as not. Harry resisted, convinced by the Cinderella episode that giving in would only result in humiliation. 

On Monday he was on his way to Advanced Charms when he heard a shout. Worried that someone was in trouble, he ran up the stairs to the third floor and skidded to a halt. Astoria Greengrass was standing in a lesser used corridor, her hair frazzled and her blouse askew, glaring angrily at a closed door. 

"And you'll stay in there until you decide!" she shouted.

"Astoria, are you okay?" Harry rushed to her side. 

"Potter, is that you?" Draco's voice shouted from behind the door. "Help me! She's mad!"

"What's going on?" Harry searched his memory for a fairy tale that fit this situation. 

"She locked me in here and said she won't let me out!"

"Why not?" Harry couldn't think of anything. 

"I want him to promise to marry me after leaving school," she balled her fists at her side. 

"Uh," Harry's mind was still blank. 

"I can't marry you," Draco shouted.

"Promise me!" she screeched, stomping her small foot.

"Potter, do something!"

"You can't keep him in there," Harry said. "At least give him another way out."

"Yes! Excellent idea!" Draco yelled. 

"Fine," Astoria sighed laboriously. "Let me think."

"Hurry," Draco called. "I need to-- I need to do something."

"Hurry up, he needs to have a wee."

"Potter!"

"Okay," she looked smug. "I'll give you three tries. I'll let you out if you can get this right. Otherwise you have to promise to marry me." She took a breath. "You have to guess the name of my great uncle--"

"Rumplestiltskin," Harry snapped his fingers. "I remember that one."

"What?" Her eyes bugged out.

"Alohomora," Harry flicked his wand and the door opened. Draco was staring at him with equal shock. 

"How did you know that?" he asked. 

"Lucky guess," Harry evaded his eyes. "Get going, Astoria. We're all going to be late for class."

"Potter wait!" Draco called as he turned to leave with the bewildered girl. 

"What?"

Draco fished in his bag and hauled out the black and silver wingtip. "Try on the shoe?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

On Tuesday he was passing through the courtyard when he heard an angry curse. The fact that it was issued by Draco Malfoy was completely expected at this point. 

"Give it to me, you grotty little bastard!" Draco shouted from the edge of the little pond at the edge of the yard. He was lying on his belly, reaching and trying not to get his sleeve wet. 

"Problem?" Harry asked. 

"How did I know you would show up?" Draco rubbed his eyes. "I lost my Golden Snitch in the pond and this bloody talking frog won't retrieve it for me."

Harry peered past him and noted that, indeed, there was a large bullfrog sitting on a lilypad in the middle of the water.

"I don't see the snitch," Harry said. 

"He doesn't have it," Draco squinted up at him. "It's in the water. I want him to swim down and get it."

"What's he asking for in return?"

"He wants me to bring him inside for dinner and let him sleep on my pillow," Draco's tone indicated clearly his opinion of the request. 

"Leave it," Harry shrugged. "You must have a hundred Snitches."

"This one is important," Draco sat up. "A berk like you wouldn't understand."

"I might," Harry said. "Why is it important?"

"It's from the first Slytherin versus Gryffindor match after I became Seeker," Draco said. 

"You lost that match."

"Don't remind me."

"But you kept the Snitch?" Harry asked. 

Draco flushed a deep red. "Yes, now help me get my ball or piss off."

"Well," Harry cleared his throat. "Unless you want to marry a frog prince, you should leave it alone and wade in to get the Snitch yourself."

Draco stared at him in disbelief. Then he stared at the frog. The frog's mouth curled up in what was suspiciously close to a smile. Draco shuddered and started rolling up his trouser legs. 

"Hey!" he called as Harry continued on his way. "Now will you try on the shoe?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

On Wednesday he found Draco standing in the middle of the Advanced Transfiguration classroom, staring at three chairs and unable to choose where to sit. To his dismay he and Draco were the first arrivals, which meant they were alone, and which meant the odds of something fairy-tale inspired and possibly embarrassing were high. He tried to duck back out of the room but the blond Slytherin spotted him. 

"Potter," he snapped. "Help me here. Which one--"

"The third one," Harry interrupted. "The first one is too hard, the second one is too soft, but the third one is just right."

"How do you know?" Draco's eyes narrowed.

"I just do," Harry took a seat in the far corner and wished he'd waited for his friends. 

Dismissing the chairs, Draco climbed the risers to the corner where Harry was sitting. He gazed down at him for a moment before sinking gracefully into the next seat. Harry's heart pounded. Were they sitting together? Or was this just Draco's way of trying to intimidate him?

"Potter," Draco began hesitantly. "Have you noticed all of the strange things going on over the past couple of weeks?"

"I've noticed," Harry said. No use denying it. 

"Have you noticed that the strange things mostly happen when you and I are around each other?"

"Really? Hadn't noticed," Harry lied. For once he couldn't detect any hostility in Draco's tone. It put him on edge and he didn't know how to act in response. 

Draco stared at him for a moment. "Did you attend my party last weekend?"

"Yes."

"I don't recall seeing you."

"It was a masquerade."

"I saw Granger and Weasley," Draco added. "Not even masks could hide that ginger and the mudblood."

There it was. That was the Malfoy that made Harry so reluctant to give into the spell. "Don't call her that."

"I don't mean it like that," Draco sat back in his chair and fiddled with his satchel strap. "Not anymore, anyway."

"Like what, like a death sentence?" Harry's voice was harder than he intended.

"I never meant it like a death sentence," Draco looked insulted. "It was more like, I don't know, daft bint. But personalized."

"You never thought she was less than you because she's muggle-born?" Harry didn't believe a word of it. 

"Well yes, of course I did," Draco snorted. "But I never thought she should be killed for it."

"Interesting claim, Death Eater," Harry muttered. He busied himself with his books.

"Well, like I told you, by the time I was marked I was already coming to the realization that I was wrong about all of that." Draco folded his arms across his chest and leaned away. 

"The Death Eaters were killing muggles before you joined."

"Joined," Draco snorted. "What's your definition of joined?"

"Regardless, you can't go back and revise history to make it sound like you never thought Hermione was just another mudblood who deserved to be slaughtered."

Draco turned away and glowered at the floor. Once again Harry wished he'd held his tongue. He knew the spell couldn't overcome these sorts of issues, but he had at least hoped to hold onto the memory of their pleasant conversation at the party. If he hadn't spoken up--

"Fourth year," Draco said, his voice low and controlled. "Quidditch World Cup. They came, you remember."

"Of course I remember."

"We saw each other there," Draco said. He glanced over at Harry. "What did I say to you?"

"You said they were killing mudbloods and they were going to kill Hermione, too." Harry grimaced at the memory.

"I told you to hide her," Draco said softly. "Didn't I? I warned you that they were killing muggle-borns and that you should hide her."

Harry thought hard. 

"Didn't I?" Draco asked again. 

"You did."

Draco turned away again and they sat in silence. Harry wondered fleetingly where their classmates were. 

"I know what I sound like when I speak," Draco said. "I'm rude and demanding and snotty, I know that. You know that. But set that aside and think back. I warned you because I didn't want her killed. I never wanted anyone killed. Mostly me, but also not her. And not you."

Harry nodded and was at a loss for words. Here was Draco Malfoy, speaking to him with the same sincerity as the masquerade party. Only this time there were no masks, no doubt about Harry's identity. He combed through his memory and couldn't deny his words. He also remembered the way Draco held back and stalled instead of killing Professor Dumbledore. He remembered the way he stopped his friends from killing Harry in the Room of Requirement. He remembered Draco refusing to identify him at Malfoy Manor.

He finally met Draco's gaze. "I believe you. I'm sorry I didn't."

The breath went out of Draco's lungs in a gust. Harry realized how important his belief was, so much so that Draco had been holding his breath. "Thank you," Draco looked away again. "But you still stink."

Harry couldn't help it. He snorted loudly and buried his face in his hand. "You're such a prat," he said. 

"Always have been, always will be," Draco's gentle tone belied his words. He held Harry's gaze for a moment, a small smile quirking one side of his mouth.

Much to Harry's chagrin, he blushed again.

"I'm going to go see what's holding everyone up," he said, scooping up his satchel and ducking his head. 

"Potter," Draco called. Harry paused with his hand on the door. "You're never going to try the shoe on, are you?"

Harry swallowed hard. He needed to think about things, get his head on straight before deciding what to do next. He shook his head, "Maybe. But not yet."

Draco narrowed his eyes but a small smile quirked his lips again. "Okay."

As it turned out their classmates and instructor had, en masse, lost track of time. And although Harry couldn't think of a fairy tale that included time freezing, he suspected the spell was responsible.

He shared his conversation with Hermione, wanting her take on Draco's claim that he had tried to save her. She shuddered at the memory and furrowed her brow. 

"I don't know, Harry," she sighed. "There's so much fear and anger in that memory. Who knows what really happened anymore?"

"So he could be lying," Harry said, trying to ignore the dull ache of disappointment in his gut.

"Let's look at it logically," she said. "Did he stand to gain anything by warning us? Was it a risk for him to speak to us? He knew where we were, could he have directed his father to us if he wanted me dead?"

Harry nodded. "You're right. Maybe he is telling the truth."

"He's always been an awful bully," Hermione said. "But mostly a childish bully. Maybe he's grown up. And maybe we're grown up and we can tell the difference now between childishness and true malice."

"Maybe," Harry said. 

"Is the spell still working?" she asked. 

Harry smiled weakly. "Goldilocks and the Three Bears today."

"I wonder if it will ever stop," she said. "Or will it keep trying until you give in?"

"I don't know."

"Are you going to give in?"

"Maybe I already have," he said before he could bite the words back. 

"So then..."

"I just have to stop being terrified that he hasn't," Harry said. She patted his knee.


	8. Chapter 8

On Thursday Harry noticed that Draco wasn't in Advanced Potions. As he and his friends left the last class of the day he tried not to worry that something had happened. Draco had been in their previous classes, and it wasn't like him to miss potions. So when they reached Gryffindor tower and heard the hubbub of activity drifting down the stairwell, Harry knew they were in for something. 

"But how are we supposed to get in there?" Seamus' voice cut through the babble as Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville arrived at the bottom of the stairs. Way up at the top they could see a mass of thorny vines had grown over the entrance to Gryffindor house. The moving stairs were crowded with students who were trying to figure out how to get in. In fact, the last set of stairs was stuck halfway to the top landing, held back by a thick matte of vines. 

"Draco is in there," Harry said for his friends' ears only. "I'm sure of it."

"How can you get in now?" Hermione asked. She didn't say we, she didn't say they, it was clear by now that this was Harry's game alone. 

"Obviously not through here," Harry said. "What about the window? I could climb up to our window just like he did."

"It's worth a shot," Hermione said. 

They ran outside and hauled up short at the base of the beanstalk. It would be quite a climb. Harry swallowed hard, thinking of the lacerations Draco had ended up with on his palms. But there was no time to waste. If he'd learned anything from the spell it was that it wouldn't wait for him to make up his mind. 

"Malfoy!" He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. "Sonorous! MALFOY!"

A moment later the shutters on the eighth year's window opened, pushing with some difficulty against the large flat leaves of the beanstalk. Draco leaned out and waved his arms.

"Malfoy, can you climb down?" Harry called with his amplified voice. 

"I sprained my ankle trying to kick down the door," Draco called back.

"Quietus. Hermione, think," Harry turned to his muggle-born friend. "Which fairy tale is this? It feels like they're getting mixed up."

"I don't know," she thought hard. "Rapunzel?"

"Sonorous! MALFOY! Do you know of a spell that can grow your hair long? If you do that I can climb up!"

"Are you mad?" Draco's voice drifted back down.

"That doesn't make any sense," Ron shook his head. "You don't need to climb his hair, you have the beanstalk right there."

"You're probably-- sorry, Quietus. You're probably right," Harry thought again. "Think, Hermione, what's another tower fairy tale?"

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe just start climbing and try to reach him."

"Okay," Harry flexed his hands a few times and prepared to climb. But the instant he touched the beanstalk the ground shook and a thorny rosebush sprouted from the ground and wound its way up the trunk to Draco's window. Harry leaped back before one of the thorns skewered him. 

"Potter!" Draco shouted. He reached out to try to grab the beanstalk before the bush reached him, but it was too late. One of the thorns scratched his arm. Draco yelped and clutched the wound, then went limp and collapsed to the floor. 

"Sleeping Beauty," Harry and Hermione said together. 

"How does that one go?" Neville asked. 

"The princess scratches herself on a needle and falls into a deep sleep, and only the kiss of true love can wake her," Hermione said. 

"True love?" Ron and Neville both stared at Harry. 

Harry nodded grimly. 

"Is that even," Ron stopped. "I mean are you--"

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "The spell got it right."

"Merlin," Ron breathed. "Too bad it had to get to this point before you realized it."

"I realized it a while ago," Harry said sadly. "I just couldn't let myself believe it."

"Harry," Hermione pressed her lips together. "I think I know where the spell is going with this."

"Just tell me what I have to do," Harry felt grim but knew he would do whatever it took. 

"That vine is Roseshade," she said. "It only grows in shade or night. Sunlight kills it," she said. "But that only stops it from growing. To clear it you need fire, too."

"So Confringo with--"

"Harry, this is the fairy tale spell," she said. "I think there's another way it has to be done." She pointed up at the cloud where the beanstalk ended. "The golden egg. Legend says it's a real magical artifact, not just a fairy tale. They say each golden egg contains the light and fire of the sun. If you can get one you can use it to clear the vine and get in to awaken Draco."

"But how am I supposed to climb it with all of those thorns?" Harry asked. "I don't see a clear path anywhere."

"This is where you need to stop relying on muggle stories," Ron said. He folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Have you two forgotten entirely about broomsticks?"

***********************************************

Ginny arrived a few minutes later with brooms in hand. When they asked her how she knew they needed them, she shrugged noncommittally. Harry worried that the spell was coming to a head. It was tired of waiting, and they were now tumbling headlong towards an inevitability that no one could stop. 

"You wait here and I'll go up," Harry said as he climbed onto his Firebolt. 

"We're coming, too," Ron and Ginny said. 

"It's too dangerous," Harry said. "I'll go alone--"

Ginny's withering look cut his words off in mid-sentence. He sighed and remembered what she had said about trust. "Okay," he said. "I trust you to stay safe."

"Let's go," she nodded and ascended in a straight shot towards the top of the beanstalk.

Ron set off next, and Harry brought up the rear. He circled once around the beanstalk where it passed the eighth-year bedroom window. There was no way in now, just a mass of vines obscuring his view. He could barely glimpse a shock of white hair on the floor and knew with certainty that Draco was asleep.

He spun around and shot skyward, his heart in his throat. Ron and Ginny didn't know what they were getting themselves into, but he did. And he hadn't the first clue about how to stop a giant. 

His friends were waiting for him when he emerged from the cloud and crested the top of the beanstalk. The vine was narrow here, only as big around as a sapling. It was clear that this was their stop. And if the vine wasn't a good enough indicator, the enormous castle ahead was the clincher. 

"Look how big it is!" Ginny gasped. 

In actuality it was a small castle, by castle standards. It had one turret, a drawbridge, and only a minimum amount of living space. But the proportions themselves were mind-bending. Everything was at least five times bigger than normal. All of Hogwarts could have fit inside the first floor. Each window was as tall as the ceiling in the Great Hall. Harry wasn't sure they could accomplish much at their relative size. How would they get the golden egg down from there?

"No time like the present," Ginny shot like an arrow towards the drawbridge. It was up, sealing off the main entrance, but she veered to the side and sailed in through an enormous window and was out of sight in no time. 

"Bollocks," Ron took off after her with Harry by his side. They hunkered down low on their broomsticks and sped through the window, hauling up short as soon as they breached the dim interior of the castle. Ginny was tucked up against the windowsill on her broom, her eyes round with amazement. 

In the middle of the room a gigantic man sat at a table of oversized food, cramming fistfuls into his mouth. He was sloppy, with grease on his face and sticky fingers and splotches on his shirt. His hair and beard were wild and unkempt and his clothes were patched and rumpled. 

"I see the goose," Ron whispered.

He pointed to a shelf above the giant's head and sure enough a cage containing a centaur-sized goose sat temptingly within view. As they watched the goose honked and shuddered and a glint of gold flashed between the bars of the cage. The giant reached up, flipped open the little hatch, and retrieved the egg. He cracked it over a candlestick and in a brilliant flare of light and heat the wick lit. A moment later the goose honked again and another glint of gold appeared under its tail feathers. 

"We need to cut to the chase," Harry said. "The way the story goes is that Jack steals the goose and the giant chases him down the beanstalk, and he chops it down to kill the giant and save the day. I don't want the goose, and I don't want to kill anyone."

"Right," Ron and Ginny agreed.

"We have something Jack didn't have in the story," Harry shook his wand into his hand. "Magic. You two distract the giant and I'll get an egg. Try not to hurt him, it's not his fault we're here." He squinted up at the cage. "Let's see how far I can get before you need to intervene."

Ron and Ginny bent low over their broomsticks and took off. They circled unnoticed around the giant and hovered behind his shoulder as Harry made his way to the massive cage.

He landed on the shelf and held his hands aloft non-threateningly. The bird crooned and flapped its wings but didn't honk. Feeling encouraged he grasped the latch and leaned his body weight into it, and it slowly slid free from its housing. The giant was still stuffing his maw with food and didn't notice as Ginny and Ron hovered nearby, waiting for a sign.

Harry climbed into the cage, dragging his broom behind him for security. The goose stretched its neck and flapped its wings again, but backed away from its egg. It was as big as a pumpkin and shimmery golden over its entire surface. Harry seized it and backed his way out of the cage, both arms clutching the heavy ovoid.

He was certain he was in the clear, and cast a quick balancing charm on the egg so it could ride safely in front of him on the broom. He was all set to kick off and sail towards the window when it all went wrong. 

The goose honked long and loud, flapping its wings and startling the giant out of his food-induced trance. He looked up and spotted Harry with his golden egg and roared furiously.

"Fee fi fo fum! I smell the blood of an Englishman!" he bellowed predictably.

"Now!" Harry shouted as he shot towards the ceiling, just evading the sweeping mitt of the hamfisted giant. 

Ginny and Ron shot sparks from their wands, catching the giant's eye and drawing his attention. He roared again and tried to knock them out of the air. They shot more sparks, confusing him with flashing lights and the whistles and bangs of fireworks.

"Come on!" Harry shouted as he blitzed through the window and headed straight for the beanstalk.

He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Ron and Ginny fleeing after him, firing off more blasts at the pursuing colossus. They hauled up short at the top of the beanstalk as the drawbridge crashed down, then they plunged through the cloud bank as the giant stomped after them. Harry knew he would try to climb down after them. That was how the story went, after all.

They emerged from the fog and plummeted at high speed towards the ground. Ginny and Ron continued on but Harry yanked up on his broomstick and hefted the golden egg. The window to the eighth year room was straight ahead, tangled in a mesh of thorns and vines. He squinted and aimed carefully, and then hurled the egg directly at the mass of Roseshade that blocked the window. 

The egg burst into light and flame and heat and burned quickly, charring the vines, the thorns and the beanstalk alike. And then the flame shot upwards toward the cloud and the giant's foot, now appearing at the top of the stalk. He held his breath as the beanstalk burned higher and higher until it finally reached the enormous mans foot, jolting him back up into the cloud with a distant holler. And then slowly the cloud, now freed from the vine, drifted away.


	9. Chapter 9

Now that the window was clear, Harry realized he could clearly see Draco's prone figure on the floor inside. He took a deep breath and sailed in, just squeezing through the open window. 

The room was dim and quiet and Harry could see tendrils of vines creeping around the bottom and sides of the door, telling him that the way in and out was still blocked. He knelt by Draco's side and checked his neck for a pulse, then brushed his hair back from his forehead. His heart squeezed and he was forced to admit to himself that he really had fallen for his Slytherin rival. As terrifying as it was, he had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy. 

He flicked his wand and levitated Draco over to his bed, settling him gently with his head on the pillow. He fiddled with his wand, chewed his lip, and tried not to be nervous about what he had to do next. Like before, he knew how this story ended. 

Harry sat on the edge of the bed and grasped Draco's hand in his own, gazing thoughtfully at the sleeping boy. Maybe, he thought, just maybe Malfoys and Potters could mix after all.

"You're a prat," he said aloud. "I don't know why I couldn't have fallen for someone who is actually nice to me, someone who has been nice all along. Why do I have to fall for you when you've been as mean as you have? Why do I have to find it in myself to forgive you?"

Draco didn't stir. His breath was so faint that the rise and fall of his chest was nearly imperceptible. Harry could hear nothing of their classmates outside.

"But the fact remains," he murmured, brushing Draco's hair back again, "I have fallen for you. And that's terrifying, because no one truly gets a fairy tale ending. I don't care what this spell does, it can't change life forever. So I'm going to kiss you, and maybe you won't wake up because it turns out I'm not the one you were looking for. And that will be awful because someone else will get to kiss you and be your true love.

"But what's scarier is that if you love me back you will wake up. And then the spell will be done and it will be on you and me to work it out, to make it stick day after day. And I don't know if we have that in us." he sighed and rubbed his eyes miserably. "Maybe Ginny is right. I don't trust people. I don't trust you to be different, and I don't trust me to get over the past. I'm too scared to do this because I don't trust either of us not to hurt each other."

He slid his hand across Draco's chest, and his heart beat faster at the intimate contact. "Then again, if we never try, we'll never find out if we can be happy together," he scooted up the bed and trailed his fingers across Draco's collarbone, then up his neck, then caressed his cheek with his thumb. "I would hate it if it turned out that we could be really great together but we never tried because I was too scared of failure." He gently ran his fingers through Draco's hair and caressed his ear. "So I guess I have to trust us both."

He closed his eyes and leaned in and, his heart pounding so hard that he could scarcely breathe, he touched his lips to Draco's and kissed him.

Draco's chest swelled as he drew in a breath and his eyelids fluttered open. He blinked once and without a word he reached up and drew Harry back down to his mouth and kissed him again. Harry complied, relief flooding his body as he realized belatedly what this meant. Draco had awoken. He loved Harry back. 

He pressed deeper and opened his mouth, and Draco responded by lickng between his lips and meeting his tongue. Harry shifted on the bed without breaking the kiss and laid next to Draco on the single-width mattress. They curled their arms around each other and stroked with insistent fingertips as their mouths worked in perfect unison. Draco ran his hands through Harry's hair and moaned as Harry pressed their hips together. 

Then Draco was lifting Harry's shirt, and Harry was unbuttoning Draco's trousers and clothing was being discarded in earnest. The room was awash in the sound of heavy breathing and mouths working across skin, and then they were naked and pressing as much of their bodies together as they could. Harry whimpered as Draco's cock pressed against his own and he squeezed the other boy's arse in the hopes of preventing a retreat. 

Draco rolled over so that he was lying on top of Harry and nested his legs between Harry's knees. He kissed his way down Harry's neck to his chest and rolled his tongue across his nipple. Harry arched his back under his touch and gasped at the electric sensation that shot through his limbs. 

Draco guided Harry's hand to his cock, then gathered a handful of Harry's member in his own fist. Harry's body quaked at the velvety heat beneath his fingertips and was overwhelmed by the erotic flood of need that surged through him. They stroked and thrust, grinding against each other with growing urgency, mouths gasping and tongues tasting and sweat forming a slick sheen between them. Draco dipped his head and lapped at Harry's neck and Harry bit Draco's earlobe and their free hands grabbed handfuls of anything they could reach. The heat rose, and Harry thought he might sob for the sheer uncontrollable ecstasy of it.

Draco lifted his head and gazed straight into Harry's eyes, his expression transcendent and his hair plastered to his forehead. He was more beautiful than Harry could bear, and before he could slow himself the gathering orgasm uncoiled like a spring, catching him in its whiplash and rocking his entire body. He came so hard that his breath stopped and he was unable to even shout. Draco moaned long and loud and came then, grimacing and gasping as he spilled everything he had between them. Harry's muscles finally released, allowing him one yelp as he gasped desperately for air. Draco collapsed on top of him and they wrapped their arms around each other so tightly that there was barely enough room between them to catch their breath.

Finally Draco lifted his head and rolled to the side so Harry could cast a quick clean-up charm, leaving them refreshed and free of cum and sweat. Draco looked at him wonderingly but didn't speak. Finally Harry shrugged. 

"So," he said. "I think I love you."

"Yeah," Draco nodded. "Me too."

"Since when?"

"I don't know, a while."

"Why were you up here?" Harry reached out with one tentative finger and brushed Draco's forelock back the way he'd always wanted to. When Draco leaned into his touch he couldn't help smiling.

"I snuck in to see if you had the other wingtip shoe," Draco's cheeks flushed. "That was you at the party, right?"

"That was me," Harry nodded. 

"You told me your eyes were really blue."

"I was worried you would be cross if you knew it was me."

"Cross?" Draco shook his head. "If I'd known it was you we could have bypassed all of this nonsense." He leaned in and kissed Harry gently. Harry's heart skipped a few beats. "Show me."

"Show you what?"

"Put the shoes on and show me that they fit."

"You still need proof?" Harry smirked. He traced his fingertips down Draco's arm, raising goosebumps all over his skin.

"Need it? No," Draco groaned gratefully. "But I want to see it anyway."

Harry kissed him again and rolled out of bed. He retrieved one shoe from his footlocker and scooped up the other one from where it had tumbled out of Draco's satchel. He shoved both feet into the shoes and stood, otherwise naked, in the middle of the room. 

"That's quite the look," Draco propped himself up on his elbow. "Who am I kidding, I'd shag you senseless no matter what you were wearing."

"Would you now?" Harry grinned. "Remember Ron's formal robes from fourth year?"

"Unfortunately yes," Draco wrinkled his nose. "But I'd still shag you. Do you know how shaggable you are?"

"Do you know how shaggable you are?" Harry slipped the shoes off and stowed them in his foot locker. He dove back into the bed and kissed Draco deeply again. They kissed for a long time, hands stroking, tongues reaching, bodies moving together. 

"For Merlin's sake, can we come in yet?"

They popped free and stared at the door. The vines and thorns were gone. As one they scrambled for their clothing and got dressed, then ran to the window to look outside. The beanstalk was completely gone. Harry rushed to the door and yanked it open, startling at the sight of Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Headmistress McGonagall, along with half of Gryffindor house behind them. None looked particularly amused.

"Is it done? Are you two madly in love yet?" Ron asked. "I'd like to change my clothes if you'll let me into my own room."

"Is it over?" Harry stepped back and allowed him to enter. 

"It looks like it," Hermione said. "You came in and a few minutes later the beanstalk and all of the thorns and vines disappeared at once."

"Is what over?" Draco asked, peering at Harry suspiciously. 

"The Fairy Tale Love spell," Headmistress McGonagall said. "And yes, it appears to be fulfilled."

"You knew about it?" Hermione's eyes bugged out. 

"My dear, once every few years a student stumbles across that spell and tries to use it to find love," Professor McGonagall sighed. "It's not usually this persistent, however. I was worried that beanstalk would become a permanent fixture."

"You cast a spell on me?" Draco raised an eyebrow. 

"No!" Harry protested. "They cast the spell on me. It was meant to find my true love. You just sort of," he shrugged, "had to come along for the ride."

"You could have just asked me out," Draco said dryly. 

"No I couldn't."

"I know," Draco's expression softened. He reached out and took Harry's hand in his.

Neville made a strangled sound in his throat and tried to cover it with a cough. Ginny patted his arm sympathetically.

"I know, Longbottom," Draco sighed. "But we'll all get used to it, I promise."

"Everyone who is not an eighth year Gryffindor male, please exit at once," Professor McGonagall shooed them towards the door. Harry allowed himself to be dragged out by his hand and for once he was actually happy to go along with Draco's bossiness.

They clattered down the moving stairs, which were now free to swing about without vines getting in the way. It was too early for supper, so they simply wandered around for a bit, reveling in the sensation of walking hand in hand. Finally out on the breezeway Draco stopped and pulled Harry in close. He gazed into his eyes for a moment and shook his head. 

"Am I really allowed to snog you whenever I want to now?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," Harry grinned sheepishly. 

"That's madness, Harry," Draco's voice ducked as he used Harry's proper first name. "You know I'm likely to abuse that power."

"Then abuse it, Draco," Harry tugged his hand and couldn't hold back a grin as the other boy obediently pressed in for a kiss.

"So now what?" Draco released him and leaned against the stone archway with his arms crossed. "What do we do now?"

"I think we do what all fairy tales do at the end," Harry said. "We live happily ever after."

************************************************

THE END


End file.
